Lost
by SgtMac
Summary: The Queen and Regina have been split. Everyone assumes this to be a good thing, but everyone is wrong. If you remove parts of a person, you leave them searching for an understanding of who they have become. Now, with Regina's world coming apart, she's going to need the help of those who love her the most to help her find herself. That might even include the Queen. Slow-burn SQ.
1. One

**A/N:** I'm expecting this to be a novella length exploration of Regina's duality. It'll be dark, gritty and emotional. It'll deal with Regina and who she is with the Queen stripped out and how you can't be who you are if you surgically remove the pieces of you that brought you to the person you now are.

This chapter features a non-graphic sexual situation with a female OC. There are warnings for assholish manipulative behavior (which might for some border on dub-con...just to be safe) and depression/self-loathing. It also - for those who prefer to be forewarned - has mentions of Regina's rather negative perception of Emma and Hook as a couple and it discusses her grief over Robin and her guilt about the way that he died (for her).

Timeline wise, this takes place four months after the finale. Hook is a part of this story - it starts with he and Emma together since I'm trying to stay somewhat roughly within the canon of the aired show - but while I am trying to be somewhat character-respectful, this just isn't his story or "happy ending" and he will eventually work his way through and then out. Robin is, of course, spoken about, but is dead (part of her journey will be coming to terms with his death and her perceived role in it, and how she struggles to understand him sacrificing himself for her).

So yes, in case you're at all concerned, this is an eventual romantic SQ piece (it's as slow-burn as a short story can be) but at its heart, it's about Regina spinning out due to how lost she feels and the people who love her the most (and the ones she equally loves the most) reaching out for her and grounding her.

* * *

The house is quiet tonight.

Quiet and dark.

Because Henry is spending the night with Emma and presumably also with her often-over practically live-in boyfriend. Regina finds that she has to try hard not to think about that last part. She finds that she has to fight like hell not to think about the seething anger which she still feels towards Emma's unkempt apparently immortal pirate and his ability to - like a cockroach - survive anything. She has to fight not to wonder if Henry prefers to be with Emma and Hook as opposed to the mercurial mother who can't seem to pull herself out of the miserable depressive funk that she's been stuck in for several months now. Either way, he's there and not here (and she hates herself for how much she missed him and how empty she feels when he's not around - when they're not) and so all there is left are cold white walls and soft yellow lights.

It's been like this a lot as of late (she's been like this a lot), and she knows that it's her fault that this is happening - knows that it's completely her fault that she's struggling as badly as she is.

Because Henry's absence is only part of the problem. Yes, it's becoming more and more of a struggle to find ways to cope with the echoing thunder of her silent far too-big house when he's away with Emma or his grandparents, but she's a strong and resilient woman (or at least this is what she likes to tell herself whenever the depression gets too heavy) and she has spent a very long time keeping herself busy and entertained and even company when no one else had wanted to. She knows how to manage - and how to survive - better than most people ever will.

So it's not just Henry and it's not just the silence.

Not just, anyway.

It's the cold bed that used to have two people in it instead of one, and it's her broken heart which isn't as shocked as it should be about its most recent injury, and it's the emptiness that's swirling around inside of her, too. It's the bitter unyielding reality that's crashing down and in on her and the tragic truth of there being nothing besides dark shadows to keep her company.

It's been four months since Robin's senseless death. Snow would vehemently insist that it wasn't such – Snow would claim that Robin's sacrifice for Regina had given it purpose, but try as she might - and she has tried so very hard to find some kind of redeeming quality in his loss - Regina finds that she is utterly incapable of seeing how a good man trading his life for a woman like her could ever make sense. And so it has been four months since a good man's soul had been obliterated and body lowered into the cold hard ground, and two children were left without a father. For months of carrying around loss and guilt and so much searing regret.

It's been four months since the Evil Queen had been torn out of her because in a fit of desperation and fear and the frantic need for hope and a future, Regina had rashly decided that it had been the only way to save both herself and others from the karmic retribution that had followed after the Queen like a faithful dog. Robin had died because of her, Regina believes; like so many of the witless stubborn heroes who follow her around, her beloved archer had thrown himself into the path of damnation for a woman who had ill-deserved his love.

And yet, she had received that love, anyway.

She's not sure she will ever forgive him for that.

Regina looks down at her glass, down at the amber liquid within it. She swirls it around, watching the flickering flames from the fire reflecting off the glass. She thinks it funny that though so much has changed about her in the last four months, her affinity and tolerance for alcohol has not. It's been four months since that night on the roof, a needle stuck in her arm, her darker half made whole and physical and since then, she has rarely been without drink.

At least not when she's alone.

Which isn't to say that she's battling an alcohol problem; when Henry or Emma or the Charmings are around, she notices that her chest is warm and her heart is big and even though she knows better, she finds that she has little need to have her mind elsewhere. But when they're gone and she's able to wonder and think and believe that they're probably happy to not be with her, caretaking her and trying to keep her buoyed, it's easy to reach for the spirits.

Easy to reach for any way away from her own heart and mind.

Regina chuckles. "You're a mess," she mutters to herself.

And, yes, of course she is.

Over the last few months, she's spent a lot of time and energy trying to figure out who she is without the Evil Queen lurking deep within her mind to help her to navigate through the darkness. The Queen had helped Regina to evade her many demons, and now, by choice, the Queen is gone and those demons are constantly clawing towards her, reminding her at all times of the sins of her past and how more of them belong to her than she has ever wanted to admit.

Because of that, because of those ever-lurking demons, Regina has of late spent a lot of time looking into mirrors and seeing very little of worth looking back at her. Oh, sure, the woman on the opposite side is more innocent and her eyes are wider and perhaps even more hopeful in that kind of dumbstruck way, but they're also more lost. More afraid and more alone.

And more wondering exactly where she fits in now.

A tip of her glass full of scotch back to her lips, and Regina thinks that she still doesn't have a clue - she just feels like she's something less than she was. Oh, sure, when it had been absolutely necessary to, she rallied and been able to find the fight and fire needed to defeat Hyde and the rest of his goons, but the whole time, she'd felt like something was wrong.

Like she was wrong.

She'd felt like she'd been pretending every step of the way. Fire in her hands, magic beneath her skin, and she'd been strong and fierce standing toe-to-toe with a mocking Hyde, but it had all been dress-up and pretend. For herself at first, but then mostly for the others who had looked at her with such worry, and with the same "are you all right?" always on their lips.

For Emma, who touches her constantly, like she's trying to ground her, and give her strength.

For Snow, who keeps trying to give her hope, and keeps trying to see light in her eyes.

And for Henry, who should never know that sometimes that light doesn't come back.

They had ended Hyde and then stood above his ashes, his other half having hidden away. She and Emma had been shoulder-to-shoulder and she'd thought, "This will one day be me."

And said, "It's over."

Knowing even then that while Hyde's sad terrible story might have been, hers was not.

Then, as she had been walking away, there had been the strange inexplicable moment when she had felt a strange anxious tingle and had turned to her side, towards the wooded area on the side of the road. She could have sworn, then, that she'd seen herself staring back at her from the trees - or rather, that she'd seen the Evil Queen standing there, watching her with a lifted eyebrow, her gaze full of cold judgment. Dressed in a sweeping crimson and silver dress with her thick hair piled high atop her proudly lifted head and her lips painted blood red, she'd been imposing and bold even in the shadows of the night. Smoky eyeshadow and furiously long eyelashes glistening darkly in the shimmering moonlight, she'd been the worst and best of Regina's demons. All just her imagination, of course, but she can't stop seeing that one visual.

Can't stop seeing what had looked like disgust and perhaps even pity being thrown at her.

A shake of the head from the Queen towards her. Like, "My God, what have you become?"

Impossible, of course, because the Queen had been defeated and killed, her black heart crushed and the whole of her turned to dust floating along the smog of the New York skyline.

Regina takes another sip from her glass and then laughs.

Because this whole pity-party that she's throwing herself is something worse than pathetic.

She doesn't even need to be the Queen to see that.

To see what she has become.

Broken, lonely, guilt-stricken and doubts-ridden, a shadow of any kind of complete person. Wallowing away in her home wishing for others and thinking that their contact is obligatory.

Believing that they reach out to her only because they feel sorry for her.

Voices in her mind argue – insists that she's wrong – but she lacks faith.

Lacks hope.

Wonders how she'd become someone with less hope than even the Evil Queen had once had.

Regina looks down at her hands, clenches and unclenches them and waits for fire to rise up through her palms. It comes so slowly now, like thick oil. As it turns out, if you rip out your darkness like one might a tumor, you also get rid of your ability to do black magic with ease. Oh, she still knows the logistics and mechanics enough to get it done, but suffice it to say, the price that she has to pay for anything that could even remotely be classified as dark is significant.

Which means that yes, she can partner up with Emma for magical light shows and she can still mix up a sharp and strong healing potion or a location spell, but anything beyond that?

A bad idea.

A very bad idea if the aftermath of the destruction of Hyde is anything to go by. Defeating him with dark magic had left sick for almost a week, a high fever escalating to an almost frightening degree. She had hidden it from the others, of course - from Henry, especially - because really, how much further could a person tumble than to be undone by their own elemental magic.

The flu, she had insisted. Nothing more. Best for them to all just stay away.

She would have said anything to keep away those sad-eyed looks for her.

Emma and her unending sympathy for her troubled partner as she walks arm-in-arm with her awful pirate and enjoys the realities of the future, and all of its promising rewards (even as Regina believes that a future with that man could never be terribly promising; she pushes away these thoughts, trying not to wonder if they're jealousy about them, spite towards Hook or something else that might be entirely and solely related to Emma). Snow as she comes to recognize that her former stepmother is someone she never should have been afraid of.

And Henry as he sees that his mother can't protect him without getting ill.

All realities that she can't deal with; she loves these people, loves them more than she'd ever thought humanly possible, and to see them look at her like she's broken would be too much.

Even if it's true.

She's tired of it being true.

With an angry grunt, Regina stands up from the table and slams down the glass, liquid sloshing over. "Enough of this simpering," she instructs herself. "Go do something. Be something."

It's not exactly a Snow White level pep-talk, but it will have to do.

She figures she just needs to get out of the house, get herself busy again.

On her own.

She won't be anyone's burden.

She will get herself through this one way or another.

As she always has.

Because she's stronger than this, she insists.

She's stronger than all of her losses. Stronger than all of her heartbreak and her loneliness. She's stronger than the break of her psyche thanks to the loss of the Queen (who would have thought, she has mused many a time over far too many glasses of scotch - removing the Queen was supposed to save her soul and instead it has plunged her into doubt and fear and seeing far less than she ever has when she looks into the mirror; at least before, she'd seen evil there, now she sees nothing and it's that absence of anything which frightens her so terribly).

But she's stronger than this – stronger than the mirror; she has to be.

If she's not, then she truly is nothing, and she can't – won't – allow that.

Regina whirls her hand around dramatically and then the soft beige slacks and gray sweater that she'd been wearing are gone, replaced by tight black jeans and a ruby red silk spaghetti strap shirt and a black leather jacket. She completes the ensemble with insanely high heels.

The look works, at least.

The look is impressive, domineering.

Bold, defiant and in-charge.

"Be something," Regina says to herself again.

And then holds her head up and walks out into the night.

* * *

Her first would-be suitor arrives at her side barely a few minutes after the bartender has handed her the first glass of whiskey. The young man who saddles up next to her is attractive enough with sandy hair and gray eyes, but she brushes him off almost immediately because not only is he young (and she's never felt older), but he's leering at her, his intentions obvious.

He tries to start up a conversation, tries to flirt but he might as well be soliciting her.

She wants company, true, but she has no desire to be just a notch on someone's belt or to add one to hers. She wants someone to speak to her like she's a person - not just a shell or a body.

The bartender – his name is Joseph, she recalls - comes by and says softly, "Your Majesty, another?" He's kind and his blue eyes are equally so, but he's worried and she hates that because she barely knows this man except to recall that he had worked in a tavern in the old world as well. Apparently, he doesn't hold a grudge against her, but even absent the Evil Queen, she thinks that he should despise her and she hates his compassion. She wonders as she accepts another glass if the removal of the Queen had made the self-loathing within her - for so long buried beneath excuses and justifications and so much anger and hurt - that much worse.

It'd always been there, of course. In every step into battle, and in every risk and bit of jeopardy that she has ever recklessly sprinted into without hesitation and in every glance into her own eyes in the mirror, that deep loathing has been there. It feels so much worse now, though.

It feels like she knows that with or without the Queen, the blood on her hands is still sticky.

There are no more sweet lies to tell herself, no more hard promises of vengeance and control to sate herself with, just names written across tombstones and bloody sins which could fill up -

"Majesty," the Joseph the bartender says again. "Would you like me to call someone?"

Her eyes snap up. "Someone?"

"To come and get you. Sheriff Swan, perhaps?" he says, and then smiles that same kind smile at her, like he could ever possibly understand her. Like he knows what might help her feel better – feel stronger, maybe. Emma Swan, he probably thinks. Because everyone knows that they're no longer two mothers at war. Everyone knows that that they're close friends and family and sometimes – though not for a time, she thinks bitterly and then hates herself for her simpering need just a little bit more – almost inseparable. They're practically partners, right? That's clearly his assumption; Emma will come for her and rescue her from this indulgent bit of self-loathing.

"No," she says. "Sheriff Swan is busy and –"

"I'm sure that -"

"No," Regina replies again, more forcefully this time. "Just keep the drinks coming."

"Of course," Joseph answers immediately, obediently. He starts to say something else, but then nods, turns and walks away, towards his other customers. She watches him go and then sighs.

And thinks that this isn't exactly what she'd meant by being something.

This is being exactly what might be expected of a woman who had been so violently halved – to become a morose and sulking broken woman who no longer has the boldness or fight of the Evil Queen. To the eyes of everyone else in this town – even the kind ones like Joseph – she's just a pathetic weak woman in need of being saved, one who has to be watched out for now.

Well, fine, if they want to watch her, then they can.

So she stands up, finishes the drink in one large burning gulp and then with her head held high and her hips swaying like she owns the room, Regina moves into the middle of the floor. It has been a very long time since she has danced and her moves are unrefined and unpracticed, but then, she just lets go. They might mock and point and stare but at least they will remember.

And at least she will remind them that they shouldn't underestimate her.

* * *

Well, that part works, anyway.

She's beautiful and sensual and that's muscle memory, and not just the Queen. She still has enough presence to command the floor and to move like liquid through the crowd. There are eyes on her and they're watching her and at least for the moment, they're not pitying her.

It's an hour after she'd first stepped out onto the dance-floor, and she's finally sitting back down at the counter. She's sweaty and hyper and more than a little drunk thanks to having downed several more drinks while she'd been dancing when the woman (of average height, but leggy and blonde - not unlike Emma, Regina muses somewhat appreciatively and God, that's just inappropriate and so out of left field and it must be the liquor, right?) sits down next to her at the bar. After her little dance party (only one man had dared to join her, but he'd gotten too handsy too quickly and she'd pushed him away, and that's why she had eventually left the floor because as fun as it had been to surprise people, she hadn't come out here to be alone), she'd made her way back over here to try to cool down, but apparently she'd been followed back.

"Quite the show, Your Majesty," the woman says, a slight accent from the western side of the Enchanted Forest just barely noticeable in her voice. Regina tries to recall where she knows her from, but nothing comes up and so she assumes that either she's too inebriated to think clearly or this woman was just yet another someone who had been brought over. Collateral damage.

"It's been awhile since I've done that," Regina admits, her voice quiet as she tries not to think about things such as collateral damage. But it's not nearly that easy these days – nothing just flows off of her and away from her like it once had; everything sticks and hurts far more than it used to. Everything feels just a little bit out of control, like she's lost all sense of grounding.

The realization of this makes her finish off her glass, the darkness of her thoughts quickly wrapping back around her once again. If the woman notices, though, she doesn't let on. Gesturing towards Regina's now empty glass, she smiles and asks, "Can I buy you another?"

Regina lifts an eyebrow, unable to hide her surprise. "You want to buy _me_ a drink?"

"I very much would." She extends a hand to Regina, her fingers folded inwards in a way which tells Regina that the handshake will be soft and yielding even before she feels it. And, of course, she's right - the offered hold is limp and unimposing; she thinks that the Queen would have sneered at the expressed weakness of this woman, but Regina tilts inwards because the woman might look a whole lot like Emma, but she's not Emma and maybe finding someone who isn't a threat to her heart or her thoughts or any other part of her is a good thing. The woman is still smiling at her when she introduces herself, "My name is Anne. And yes, Your Majesty -"

"Regina," comes the reply. "She's not...I'm not the Queen, anymore." It's a complicated story and people around here only know the most basic part of it which is that like Jeckyll and Hyde, Regina and the Queen had been split. They don't know the why or that it had been done willingly and because Regina had felt an almost obsessive need to exorcise her darkest sides. They don't need to know how she wakes with regrets almost every night, wondering if she'd given away the all of her instead. Regina cocks her head towards Anne in curiosity. "I might not be the Evil Queen any longer, but that didn't change what I did to you; I understand why my previous suitors came towards me, and what they wanted but what do want from me, dear?"

"Well, first, I don't need to be a man to appreciate you. You're stunning."

"Stunning," Regina repeats, her voice quiet. She shakes her head to push those thoughts away from her heart and from her mind, then smiles thinly at Anne. "So you're here to hit on me?"

"Not really. Been a hell of a week and I'm mostly just here for whiskey and conversation. I'm kind of sick of being hit on by these clowns tonight, too." Anne gestures around. "Lots of dudes here, not a lot of ladies. They're like cockroaches, and I really couldn't be less interested."

"Fair enough."

"As for what you did to me? Nothing. I came over with the curse that was cast by the Charmings awhile back. I know I should probably be pissed off, but this world is far better than our own." She shrugs. "But if you want, I'll take off. Trust me, I know what it's like to just want quiet."

"Do you know what it's like to not want quiet?"

"Entirely too well."

Regina studies her for a moment, a soft buzz at the back of her neck, a little tingle somewhere inside of her mind. A warning bell? Ridiculous. Old worthless instincts, she tells herself as she ponders the reality of a night spent alone in the middle of her big house. Those instincts – ostensibly meant to protect her – had instead kept her from having any kind of real and beneficial human interactions for far too long. The truth of what she wants and even needs right now is very simple: Regina wants someone who doesn't look at her like they know how broken she is. Like they don't know how much she cries whenever she turns off her lights.

So Regina says quietly, "Stay."

Anne smiles broadly at that. "Happy to. So again, can I buy you a drink?"

Regina shrugs slightly, trying to affect the cool disinterest of the Queen, but failing simply because of how much she hungers for contact and craves human interaction and anything that feels like it might be real and hers. "Yes, you may." It's a very strange thing that she's allowing to happen here, and Regina doesn't exactly understand what's really going on; she knows it should be obvious and knows that most people would like her like she's mad for her confusion and uncertainty about all of this. The alarm bells are still going off in her head, but she thinks that they're too soft to pay attention to - too much of her past wariness. And is it so bad to be receptive to an invitation of kindness? Most people get real ones so why can't she as well?

Four months ago, she'd lost the man who was supposed to be her soulmate; he had stepped in front of certain death for her and then just been gone. Her heart, her hope - her belief that she could ever be happy had been shattered in that moment. Absent any other logical recourse, desperately needing to understand why his death had happened, Regina had blamed it on the karmic retribution of the Evil Queen, and had gone to great lengths to end that vicious loop. As the weeks have passed since then, however, she's come to realize that perhaps it's her and not the Queen who is to blame. Oh, yes, the Queen had done much evil, but it had been Regina the girl who had existed before the Evil Queen who had allowed all of that evil to come to pass.

Though she had lied to herself for so very long, she's starting to realize that she had craved the vengeance and bloody aftermath of the Queen's rage. She had enabled the fury and her soul is just as weighted down by her choice to let the Queen free as it had been by the Queen's actual actions. Which has left her adrift, confused and unsure of who she is supposed to be now.

If Robin could see her now...

If Emma could.

If any of them could.

But they can't; they're not here and she can do this - find herself - on her own.

She can make her way back to being a complete person. Worthy, maybe.

Maybe.

She has to try.

"Regina? What would you like?"

"Whatever you're having," Regina murmurs, having half-heard the question. Normally, she'd never let someone else order for her (except Emma, but that's another matter entirely, and why can't she get Emma out of her head?) - she's never been the kind of woman who lets anyone else take the lead - but she thinks that this is how it's supposed to go so she allows it.

Anne nods, then turns to the bar, finds Joseph's eyes, motions down to her own glass and then puts up two fingers. Regina notices that curious way that bartender lingers and stares back at Anne for an extra-long moment, Joseph's brow furrowed in some kind of concern, but then he turns his back on both of them and goes to fulfill the order. "So," Anne says, looking at Regina again, "They tell me that you've never been seen in here before. What brought you in tonight?"

"They?"

"The regulars. We see your Sheriff all the time -"

"She's not my Sheriff."

"No? You share a son with her."

Regina bites back on the urge to tell Anne that what's between (or in this case, not between) she and Emma is none of her business, but stops herself; that's not how you get someone to stay. That's not how you get someone to give a damn about you. The walls around her...they're bad, right? They are how you keep people away. How you keep anyone from ever caring.

She says, instead, "My love died four months ago. Sheriff Swan is, I believe, at home with her own love." The words come out hard and chipped, bitter and angrier than she'd like.

It's a strange answer, not quite a denial of anything.

"Robin Hood and Captain Hook," Anne muses, then chuckles.

"I don't want to speak of them," Regina tells her, her voice firm.

Then winces, and waits for Anne to walk away.

But Anne just smiles. "Okay. So again, what brought you in tonight?"

For a long moment, Regina doesn't answer. This whole interaction is quite strange to her. This kind of thing - this idea of an easy no-big-deal kind of conversation- isn't her normal for her.

Even when she'd been a very young girl, well before the days of the Queen, she'd struggled to just start up and have casual conversations with the everyday people she'd encountered. Part of that had been because people had been fearful of her mother, but the other part had been an uncertainty about what was expected of her. What was wanted and desired of her. As the Queen, she'd known those answers far more clearly: those who came in contact with her either wanted to use or destroy her and her response had always been to get there before they could.

She doesn't have a clue how to interact on the kind of level that someone like Snow or Emma might take for granted, doesn't know where to begin and what tone she's supposed to take with someone like Anne. She doesn't know how to calm her responses or how to soften up the doubts that run through her and bubble to the surface in her voice. The alarm bells that had been going off are getting louder and louder now, but they all just keep saying over and over, "you know that no one could ever like you" and the rest of her is trying to deny that truth.

Because the Evil Queen is gone and isn't _Just Regina_ someone worthwhile?

Isn't _Just Regina_ someone that might be worth knowing?

Robin had loved her as both.

The others claim that they love her, too (deep down, she believes that they do – even knows that they do and she thinks of "I believe in you" and it makes her ache), but she's become...

She swallows hard.

No, she won't be a burden.

Not to them – not to the people she would do anything for.

And that's what she is to them - a weight that is constantly pulling them away from their happy endings. And after all that she has taken from all of them, she owes them more than that.

But Anne…well, Anne is just asking to be a friend, not someone who has to carry that burden.

Anne is just someone in a club who doesn't know that the women she's sitting next to wakes up screaming most nights, her awful memories still there even if the Queen is no longer within her.

Anne doesn't know that she is grieving and conflicted and so terribly horribly at war with herself over the thoughts and desires that she has, the wants and needs which she harbors.

To Anne, she is just a somewhat famous woman in a bar and not someone to be worried about.

So Regina forces a smile and says to Anne, "I'm trying something new."

"New is good," Anne replies as she takes the two glasses from the bartender (who once again fixes Anne with a long look that seems almost troubled before moving away). Anne offers one to Regina and says cheerfully and brightly, "To a night of new things for the both of us."

Their glasses clink.

The alarm bells continue to go off.

Regina chooses to ignore them all.

* * *

One drink rapidly becomes two and then three (Joseph cautions her after this one, and again suggests that he can call a cab or Sheriff Swan for her so that she can get home, but Regina is far rougher in her dismissal of his offer this time) and then four and then...then they're outside just getting air (Anne had said something about cigarettes, and Regina has never really smoked, but right now she's as fluid as she's ever been, and she thinks that there's an exhilaration in being as out of control as she currently is) and then Anne is grabbing her and kissing her and before Regina can even really think about what's happening, she finds herself reciprocating.

Hungry and wanting and Robin has been dead for just four months now and Emma is with that awful man who never seems to die and none of that matters because she's just...

She just wants to be wanted.

Needs it.

Needs to know that there could be another start somewhere.

Another chance...a bit more hope.

Needs to know that she hasn't lost the last someone could look at her and -

The thought short-circuits in her mind when a hand scrabbles beneath her legs and rubs against the fabric of her pants. She groans, her eyes fluttering and all of the rest of her thoughts drifting away as she feels herself getting pushed. The wall is rough against her back, but the fingers grabbing at her are even rougher. The weak handshake from before is long gone now - replaced by firm and confident touches - bold and dominant. She feels soft painted lips crash against her own and then hard teeth biting at her neck and collarbone as her head slams backwards.

They're in an alley and this is disgusting and so goddamned beneath her, but her mind is fogged over with excessive alcohol and her heart is clouded over with abundant need, and someone is touching her like they want her. Someone is choosing to be around her not because they feel like they need to be, but rather because they want to be and for once it's not just the dead and forever lost who hold those feelings for her. For a moment, she's not alone or lonely. For a moment, she's feeling something and even if there's shame burning her cheeks, she feels alive.

She tries not to think about how it's only been four months since Robin died.

She tries not to think about how Henry had called three times during the time she'd been drinking with Anne (always his mother even in the middle of spinning out, she'd listened to the messages and heard him say that he'd just wanted to check on her and make sure that she's okay, and God, she doesn't want to be a burden to her son as well). She tries not to think about how both Snow and Emma had called, and Emma had sounded so concerned and just a little frantic when she'd said, "Hey, call me back, okay? The kid...we're...Regina, you're worrying me."

She tries not to think about green eyes that somehow see all the way through to her soul.

From her son, from his mother, from her mother.

As Anne's hand pushes down and into her pants, fingers shoving beneath lace and then roughly into her, Regina tries not to think about the dark eyes which she thought that she'd seen when she'd imagined the Queen looking back at her after she'd finished Hyde. She tries so very hard not to think about the scathing pity which she'd believed that she'd seen from the Queen. But the Queen is nothing but dust now, which means that it's only her mind condemning her...

Oh, she tries not to think about anything but hands and teeth and pleasure.

Not pain for once, just pleasure.

This alley that she's in is dirty and grimy and such a disgrace that she's almost crying (though silently, always that) when she comes, but with greedy hands and a hungry heart, she reaches out for what she can get - for the attention she's being shown even in hard hungry kisses.

As a young wife, she'd been the closed-eyed silent submissive to the King. As the Queen, she'd always been the dominant one in any and every physical relationship, quick to make her pleasures and displeasures known to all. As Regina, she'd allowed her heart to guide her in lovemaking and even in her wandering confusing fantasies, she assumes the same. Now, though, she finds herself unsure and uncertain of what to do. She doesn't want to be incapable of ever providing anyone else pleasure and so when Anne pushes her down, Regina allows it even as - in her cotton-balled mind - she sees the Queen's eyes angrily staring back at her.

Even as she can practically see the Queen sneering in disgust at her as she lowers herself down, her eyes crossing and growing glossy as her mind tries – and fails - to push her away from this.

Turns out that it had been the Queen who had helped her do that.

She tells herself she doesn't need that from the Queen, though; she's choosing this.

Equally angry now, furious at the thought of weakness, Regina forces herself to ignore the shame. Ignore the feelings of being used. Tells herself that normal people don't feel like that.

Insists that normal people who don't have the hang-ups and ticking mental time-bombs that she does wouldn't see any issue with what she's doing. It's just the give and take of normal intimacy. Dealing with hurt and pain and confusion and heartbreak through the rush of sex is normal. She just needs to forget everything that's plaguing and conflicting her - forget about the people she longs for - and for at least a few minutes, think only about the here and now.

Ah, but the voices in her mind remind her that the Regina who she was before the Queen and is now had never wanted this kind of affection - never wanted to feel like how the Queen treated her lovers. Still, she thinks that maybe anything is better than nothing. She thinks that maybe -

"Well," Anne drawls as she suddenly pushes Regina roughly away from her (it takes Regina a moment to realize that it's over and her face colors even deeper at that because this is all bad enough, but worse that even in the act of trying to forget everything, she'd been unable to get away from anything). As Regina stumbles backwards, humiliatingly falling to her butt before wrenching herself up and pushing back against the wall again, Anne says, "That was...fun."

Regina blinks, her arms circling herself protectively as reality again crashes in. She suddenly becomes aware of how much in disarray she is, her shirt rucked up, her pants open. "What?"

Anne laughs, and though they're both inebriated, she seems incredibly sober. Behind her, a door opens and a flood of people step outside, a few glancing over before scurrying away. One of the ones who lingers and stares right at her, his eyes sweeping lecherously over her slightly exposed frame, is the man who had tried to dance with her on the floor. Another one who comes out and stands next to the dancer is the one who'd brazenly hit on her when she'd just arrived at the bar. They look at Anne and she grins at them and says, "I win, boys. Told you."

"What?" Regina says again. She feels her heart pounding, feels panic rising.

Because she knows what this is. Knows damned well what it is.

She might have been playing something of an innocent for the last hour or so, but she's not actually one. She's not a child and even if her alcohol soaked brain and her desperate need for contact and for a connection had blinded and crippled her, she knows what's happening now.

And what has happened. The fool that's been made of her.

Knows that Anne has just made a mark of her on a post somewhere. "There were rumors that you were into whatever so we thought we'd all take a swing at you," Anne says, still smirking. "But everyone told me you'd never do it. Said you would never end up on your knees for me."

Regina's mind sputters and breaks. She tries to find the words. "You -"

"Just did what you wanted me to do to you. _Your Majesty."_ She says the title with lazy disdain, looking Regina over with contempt, like the woman who had once felled entire kingdoms is somehow far beneath her. "You kissed me back because you wanted to; you hit your knees when I told you to because you wanted to. You have no one to blame but yourself."

One of the men snickers behind her, says something crude and colorful which Regina doesn't entirely hear. A door opens and closes, and someone says, "That's enough. Leave her alone."

She comprehends very little of the words she's hearing, her eyes misting purple.

The hatred and self-loathing and anger all begin to swirl inside of her.

Not products of the Queen, but of a girl who had never known how to use them as the Queen would eventually teach her to. Products of a girl who had wanted such simple things like love and friendship and family and found them painfully unattainable. A girl who had chosen wrong every step of the way and apparently, as Rumple has always said, never learned her lessons.

"Let her girlfriend come; there's nothing she can hold any of us for. We didn't make her pet do anything that she didn't want to do. Not my fault that the Queen is a –"

Whatever she says gets cut off in the roaring of blood in her ears.

She can almost feel all of the hair on her body lifting up, as if raised by static.

It's laughter that gets her attention again, laughter which makes her look over at Anne just in time to hear the woman say in a mocking tone, "The great and mighty Evil Queen. They told me you would actually be a challenge. That you were too proud and would see right through us. Them maybe, but oh, all someone needed was to offer you a little bit of friendship. Like anyone would ever offer a monster like you that." One more look at Regina, her eyes raking over her. "You might want to button yourself up; you're looking a little bit sloppy, _Your Majesty_."

The man who had come outside – the bartender, Joseph – says, "That's enough. Leave!"

But Regina is unaware of this.

Unaware of Anne and her friends walking away, unimpressed and unafraid.

Unaware of the angry eyes watching everything, glittering just as dark as hers.

The only thing Regina is aware of is the anger within in as it goes from simmering to boiling.

She the purple in her eyes change from lilac to deep violet.

Feels the burning heat in her hands.

When the fire starts racing up the wall behind her, she doesn't even notice.

She doesn't notice a goddamned thing except the blinding red in front of her smoky purple eyes until there are people all around her yelling and screaming at her to stop, please stop.

But she's screaming as well and her hands are out and everything is spinning.

She thinks about Robin and how he would be horrified and betrayed.

She thinks about Emma and Henry and Snow and their disgust at her.

She thinks about the Queen and how this never would have happened with her.

She thinks about a girl who maybe is too lost to ever be found, and she's not even the one that anyone has ever thought of as lost. That's never been her story, but perhaps it should've been.

The fire continues to surge, her body continues to vibrate and rage.

She hears, "Run!" and "She's going to kill us all!"

There's a distant strange thought of wondering whom they're speaking about, but of course she knows; she knows an she keeps exploding outwards until she hears, "Regina! Regina, stop!"

She sees a flash of blonde in front of her and then green eyes.

A red jacket.

And then there are soft hands settling heavily on her shoulders for a moment before they're then warm on her face. She feels fingers lightly pressing inwards against her cheekbones before the hands drop down and gently cup her jaw; the green eyes become for a moment more vivid, seeming watery and frightened and so familiar that they almost immediately anchor her.

She hears, "Regina, please. I need you to come back to me, okay? Please?"

The hands cup closer, thumbs rubbing ever so gently across her face like they're trying to somehow trace a line of comfort there; there's only one person who touches her like this.

Only one person who never used to touch her, but whom time and shared challenge and journey has bred familiarity and comfort into – a woman so brazen that the idea of not assuming allowance and permission is foreign to her. Especially when it comes to Regina.

Regina says, her voice hoarse and low and trembling, "Emma?"

She doesn't hear the response, though - doesn't hear if the woman she presumes (knows) to be Emma speaks at her with kindness or loathing or something even worse like angry pity and exasperation because someone is hitting her from behind and then she's falling forward.

There are shouts and cries and creative cursing and then what sounds like something getting punched and knocked down, but she thinks very little of any of that - can only focus on the swirling colors in front of her as she crumbles to the dirty and wet and cold surface of the alley that she had just ten minutes ago had sex with a woman she'd met an hour ago in.

It's a pretty goddamn long way to fall.

But she's laughing as she falls.

She's still laughing when the darkness overtakes her.

It's not the first time.

 **TBC**

 **:D**


	2. Two

**Warnings** : There's a small (not overly appreciated) kiss between Hook and Emma. There's talk about depression and sexual situations, and a brief mention of Regina's marriage to the King. Also, there's some violent imagery at the very end.

Also, shocker here...but this might end up going more than three chapters. Cheers.

* * *

She feels like she's on fire.

Not just her hands, but all of her. She's shaking and trembling and everything aches. She tries to open her eyes, but they refuse to lift more than just the tiniest bit; light breaks in and she pulls back and away, the softest whimper breaking out from between her chapped lips. Her head is pounding and her hands are burning and she wonders if she's dying and knows that she's not.

Because that might be a mercy.

She tries to focus, but everything is so slippery and elusive. There are whispered hushed sounds around here and so she tries to focus on them instead. Words, conversations.

"We should take her to a hospital; she's burning up." She recognizes that as David speaking, his voice quiet and patient, but there's an edge there, some kind of strange anxiety present. She thinks about all of the times that he had tried to push her away from his family, wary of her presence, uncomfortable about her influence. Eventually, as always, he'd acquiesced to his wife and daughter, and their desire to bring about her redemption, but a part of her has always wondered if when he looks at her, he still sees mostly a time-bomb silently ticking down.

"There's nothing they can do for her there that we can't do for her here." And that's definitely Emma; if David had sounded anxious, Emma sounds like she's crawling right out of her skin. But it's a different kind of nervous energy there; Emma might worry and be afraid of bad things happening, but in the end, she sees things as opportunities wasted and lost as opposed to ones that maybe had never been there to begin with. Sure, that's partly her need to project those second chances inwards (and then outwards when there is a failure) but still, she believes in them. Still, against all good and common sense, Emma continues to believe in her co-mother.

Which both touches and upsets Regina.

Just as the idea of that faith and belief ever hurting Emma makes her almost sick to think about; when she had called Emma "good" while they'd been in Neal's apartment together, it hadn't just been an easy and simple word for Regina to use – it's been her seeing what Emma has often struggled to see in herself. It had been her needing Emma to see that and believe it.

She thinks – knows – that Emma would try to echo the words back to her, but…she can't.

Because good people don't have Evil Queens within them.

Good people don't wonder if perhaps they were better and stronger with the Evil Queen.

The sound of shifting and conversation forced her to try to focus her cotton-balled brain. She can feel herself fading out again, words coming and going with each breath that she takes.

But still, she tries. She hears Snow trying to convince Emma about a hospital. And failing.

"Mom, this is magic. This is… if we take her to a hospital, we leave her vulnerable."

"You really think someone will go after her?" Snow queries, her voice quiet and practically quailing and if Regina were in any kind of coherent way, she'd rail against that kind of fear.

But she's not and it's not like she has the right to get upset about them thinking she's pathetic and in need of being watched over and taken care of after what had happened tonight.

"Someone made a mark of her tonight. So yeah, I do."

Regina fades out after that, her heart clenching with pain. Other dark emotions run through her, but her mind is too chaotic and too conflicted to be able to truly focus on them. They feel like shame and something else that tastes a lot like bitter anger, but then the heat is rising in her again and the small amount that her eyes had been opened before is suddenly far too much. There are soft pillows beneath her, she thinks, and so she falls into them. It's weakness not to fight back – not to surge back, but for just this moment, at least, she allows herself it.

She allows it and she allows herself to – for at least a few moments – not exist.

* * *

When she comes to agaub, the first thing that Regina is aware of is how dry her throat and mouth are. Wincing, she sits up in the bed, a hand settled atop her chest and her eyes frantically blinking as she tries to adapt to the lighting of… well, not the loft. Which is a bit of a surprise, to be honest.

She can recall – somewhat – the conversation she'd heard while she'd been sick and feverish, but nothing beyond that. But this isn't her bed that she's in and it's not one at the loft, either.

Or a hospital one, which means –

"Hey," she hears from somewhere to her left. "Welcome back."

She blinks again, then turns her head, and as her vision finally clears, she's able to make out Emma standing in the doorway of a bedroom that she's never been in before. Only, she has, she thinks. Several months ago. When she'd been searching Emma's house for the Dark Swan.

So that's where she is – Emma's house.

Regina stiffens up because if they're here, then that probably means that he is, too.

And oh, how she has gone out of her way to avoid seeing any sign of Hook.

"Regina?" Emma asks, her voice so soft that it sends chills racing up Regina's spine. Because the tone is cautious and wary and it reminds Regina of someone approaching a wounded animal.

Apparently, some things never change.

"Is this your house?" she asks unnecessarily, at a loss for something else to say. She picks at the blanket that's over her – a blue and green almost nautical themed thing, and it reminds her of Emma's loathsome boyfriend (and the fact that he's alive and Robin's dead, and couldn't they all do so much better or is this truly the lot that they're fated to draw and own in their lives?)

"Yeah. You needed somewhere comfortable and quiet to rest."

"My house would have been fine for that," Regina insists.

"Sure, if you'd wanted Henry watching over you."

"Of course not," Regina bristles. Then, looking around again, "Is it just you or is Snow out in the hallway waiting to run in here and try to make me all better with the power of her hugs."

"She stepped out for a few hours," Emma replies dryly. "But when she gets back, I'll be sure to let her know that you asked for her. And no, it hasn't been just me. It's been me and my mom and my dad and even your sister when she can sit still long enough. It's been all of us, Regina."

"Zelena has been here?"

"With what you've been through together, she'd do anything for you. I know the feeling."

It's an honest admission – blunt and unrelenting, and Emma's green eyes are almost glistening with the depth of whatever emotion she is feeling. At the very least, it's strong affection, and it's enough to make Regina turn away from her. She feels the slightest bit of pain, and vaguely recalls that something hard had connected with the back of her skull just before all of the lights had gone out. A quick glance back at Emma and she notices a fading bruise just beneath her eye which indicates that there had been some kind of brawl afterwards. Like she doesn't have enough guilt and shame about the whole fiasco… clearly, Emma had been wounded for her.

Sensing Regina's retreat, Emma takes two long strides into the room, her hand out. "Hey –"

"Don't." She draws herself up tight, her body language screaming out a warning.

"Okay, I won't," Emma sighs, coming to a full stop. "But at least tell me how you're feeling."

"Like I don't need anyone watching over me. Whether it's you or your parents or my sister. And most especially not Henry. I can handle…this," Regina starts to push herself from the bed, but almost immediately, the world starts swirling and despite a furious attempt to remain upright, she finds herself swaying and then falling backwards, collapsing against the thick pillows.

"Easy," Emma says gently, moving a few more steps inwards. "You've been out for most of the last week." Off of Regina's look of surprise, she continues, "Apparently, using dark magic such as murderous fire isn't healthy for a person who isn't…predisposed towards it anymore."

Regina grits her teeth at that. She knows this, of course, and clearly recalls the week that she'd spent nearly unconscious in her own house after they'd killed Hyde. But she'd hidden that from everyone and would have liked to have kept hiding it because now, they know. Now, they know how weak and pathetic and useless she is. Incapable of using magic without collapsing.

"Regina –"

The older woman shakes her head to cut her off. "I don't want to do this," Regina says briskly, sharply. "I don't want to have this conversation so let's just… not, all right?"

"Okay, fine. We don't have to talk about you nearly burning down the Rabbit Hole." Emma's hands are settled lightly on her hips and she's staring back at Regina with those focused green eyes that somehow seem to see right through all of the bluster and bullshit; it's unnerving.

It always has been.

"It was a bad night," Regina admits with a tired sigh. "That's all."

Emma nods slowly, and then completes her journey over towards Regina. There's the slightest bit of a pause, and then finally, she sits down on the bed, a few inches away from Regina. "I know," she says. "And I know – God, better than most people – that bad days happen."

"Good. Then you know that I'm fine."

"That's not what I said. And you're not fine; you were going to kill everyone."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Regina replies, and sounds so terribly tired and resigned.

"I don't think it was your intention."

"Of course not. I'm the good side of me." The words are said with a measure of spite and perhaps even mocking for herself. Like she's thinking that perhaps there's not such a thing.

"That's not what I meant. I think you panicked."

"I don't panic."

"Someone hurt you."

"I've been hurt before, Swan."

"I know." Emma takes a deep breath and tries to focus herself. "Okay, look, you're not ready to talk about this, and I get that, okay? But we do need to talk about it because –"

"It's not what we do."

"What?"

"Us, Emma. We don't talk about things. About our past or the fights we've had or the many ways that we've betrayed each other. We don't talk about the things between us."

"I wasn't aware that there were things between us," Emma says quietly.

Regina's about to respond – about to say something (though truly, she doesn't know what it is that she'll say considering the fact that she'd thrown out the previous claim in the hope of pushing Emma away from her) when there's a soft tap on the doorframe and then there's –

"Hook," she says dully, and can't quite stop her lip from curling in disgust.

"Good to see you, too, Your Majesty," he replies, eyeing her curiously. There's something she doesn't like in his gaze. No, it's not lecherous or sexual, but it's this kind of lift to his eyebrow that tells her that even he - a man who had fallen so effortlessly to the renewed darkness - thinks her pathetic; it's unbearable.

"Not now, you two," Emma sighs. "Killian, what is it?"

"I was checking on you. I see our Queen is as cheerful as ever."

"I said not now, okay?"

"I think she wants you to go away," Regina states, and feels the smallest flush of joy at the way Hook bristles at her words. She doesn't assume that to mean anything, but it's difficult to find any reason to support him or his happiness considering how much she dislikes him. It's not fair, really; it's not like he's done anything new or more than he has ever done. Months ago, she'd been able to tolerate him and even grudgingly stand behind Emma's relationship with him because she'd been willing to stand behind Emma in anything and everything. But then he had died and come back and Robin had died and not come back and it's never been more obvious to her that the scales of fair and not fair had been tipped in the wrong direction just for him.

Or maybe, she admits to herself, she just can't find a way to understand why he's alive.

"Regina," Emma warns, her hand lifting up to rub at her temple. She's known for a very long time that there was animosity between these two, and she knows that she should have stepped in a long time ago and tried to bridge the gap, but now it feels more like a chasm and she wonders if it's even remotely possible. Or even, frankly speaking, if she wants it bridged.

It's a weird thing to think, and her logical mind chuckles at her because of course she would want two of the people she cares about the most to be all right with each other, but still… she finds that she's not exactly eager to try to play counselor with them. Finds that she kind of likes having separate relationships and likes keeping those relationships entirely individualized.

Which… weird, but what about her life isn't that?

"Sorry," Regina apologizes, her tone dry and bored. "I suppose someone wants you around."

"I should hope so," Hook chuckles, "Considering that I was just stopping by to bring a few more boxes over; should have everything here by tonight." He looks over at Regina, then, and Emma knows that he's about to say something that will make this worse. She's not wrong, though it's not exactly his words so much as the almost pitying smile which he gives Regina, one that's so loaded down with condescension and open mocking disdain. "I hope you're feeling better; I heard you took quite the fall." His implication is obvious, and God, he's still grinning at her.

And, then, with that grin still on his lips, Hook leans in, kisses Emma on the lips – holding a bit longer than is probably necessary just for effect – and then turns and leaves the room.

"So he knows, too," Regina observes.

"Small town," Emma allows, frowning slightly and glancing back towards the door.

"Right."

"Look, I'll talk to him about –"

"No! No. I don't want you talking… I don't want you and him ever talking about me."

Emma frowns at that. "Okay. Whatever you want."

"Good," Regina says with a sharply emphatic nod, and then without any kind of warning, she stands up. She is immediately shaky on her legs, and her body still feel far too warm to be up and around, but there's a frantic need to move – to get out of this house as quickly as possible.

Before any other parts of her get exposed to the harsh light of day.

Emma reaches out for her. "Hey, come on, you're not ready to be up and around."

"Then I'll go home and sleep in my own bed. Away from you."

"Why are you pissed off at me? What did I do?" Emma pleads, pulling her arm back.

"Nothing. You did nothing," Regina answers, looking around the room for something to wear. She'd woken up in pajama bottoms and a tank top, but a glance out the window has told her that it's somewhat brisk out and she really doesn't need to add a cold to her current issues.

"Then what the fuck is going on here? Because you're running from me."

Regina turns and jabs towards Emma. "Where did you get the bruise under your eye from?"

"What?" She lifts her hand to her face. "It… I got it a week ago. In the alley."

"Where you found me. On fire because some… because I'd just allowed myself to get used by some… woman who saw me as so soft and pathetic that I was an easy mark for her and her friends." Her chin wobbles and for a moment, Regina looks like she's about to start crying, but then her hands clench into fists and she lifts up her head, her jaw hardening with purpose.

"Is that what you're angry about? That I saw you that night?"

"You said 'small town.' So that means that everyone knows what happened, I assume?"

Emma's eyes meet hers.

"Of course. Oh, how the people here must love that," Regina mutters as she turns around and continues her search for clothing. She finally locates the jeans and spaghetti tank that she'd been wearing that night (they've been washed and they're folded up on the chair, and she doesn't particularly want to wear them again, but she also doesn't want to show the weakness of refusing to wear the clothes, either). As she yanks them on, she mutters darkly back over her shoulder, "They must really love knowing that the Evil Queen was on her fucking knees."

"Regina –"

Regina snaps around, dressed and somewhat put together (it's only then does it occur to her – almost absently – that she could have used magic to change her clothes; she rejects this for the moment, though because she's just spent the last week burning up thanks to her use of magic, and who knows what will unwind her and what will actually be useful to her). "Yes, I know; I'm not the Evil Queen, anymore. The Evil Queen wouldn't have let anyone dare to try that."

"I don't care," Emma says softly and then strides forward and grasps both of Regina's hands – they're trembling beneath her touch – in hers. It's a decidedly bold move that which she knows will either get her lit on fire or… well, it's probably too much to help that it will be received in the spirit she intends, but she knows that she has to try. She might not have much interest in bridging the considerable chasm between Hook and Regina, but she has a lot of it in bridging the suddenly forming gap between the two of them. She knows she can't let it grow larger.

Regina blinks and then does it again. Like she simply can't comprehend. "You don't –"

"Five years ago, I chased a child killer across three states and when I finally found him in a bar, I decided seducing him and sleeping with him was the best plan. I threw up most of the next day, but the son of a bitch was in jail and never getting out. You do what you have to do –"

"You had a good reason," Regina insists, her eyes on Emma's hands which are still over hers.

"No, I told myself I had a good reason. I'm sure that there was another way." Emma shakes her head. "I did a lot of things that most people could never begin to understand. But you do. It's why you and I have always understood, Regina. Because we don't hypothesize ideal situations."

"It's not the same thing. A very bad man is in jail because of what you did," Regina argues. "What I did, well, I guess you could say a bad person got punished there as well, didn't they?"

"What was the point in removing the Queen from you?" Emma asks, sounding exasperated.

"Excuse me?"

"If you're just going to carry her weight, anyway. What was the point, Regina?"

"That bruise you have," Regina says, oddly changing the subject. "You got it because after you came to my rescue, you ended up in a fist fight, right? Because you were protecting me."

"Someone knocked you unconscious, and I wasn't going to let you be hurt. Because you're my friend. And you're my family. And whether you believe it or not, I care a lot about you."

"I believe you. But you shouldn't."

"And I repeat the question: what was the point if you're just going to carry the weight of her sins around?"

"It's not the weight of her sins that I'm carrying, Emma, it's mine." She taps the side of her head. "I have a clear mind these days. I can see things in a way that I never thought possible."

Emma frowns at that. "I think I said the same thing when I was decked out in black leather."

"This is different."

"Of course it is."

"It is," Regina insists. "Because this is actually me, Emma. The Queen isn't around anymore to tell me not to worry about things. She's not there to rationalize away who I am and what I've done by telling me that it was how we managed to survive and stay alive. No, this is all me now and the truth is that I let her do every single thing that she did. Which means that I did, too."

"Anger is normal. You know that."

"Not my anger," Regina says, and then pulls away from Emma's touch. "And you know that."

"Regina, come on –"

"Is your pirate fully moving in with you now?"

It's another strange change in subject, but Emma's figured out that she has to go with them. "It seemed like the natural next step for us," Emma allows, her tone soft and oddly cautious.

Regina's jaw clenches for a moment before she forces herself to calm. "I don't like him, Emma. I don't trust him near our son or you for that matter. But what you do with…with yourself is your business, not mine. I don't think he's worthy of you. You love him, though. So fine. Be happy."

She turns, then, and walks away, out the door and down the hallway.

Emma doesn't move.

Just stands in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Below her, a door closes loudly.

And Emma sighs, "Okay, time for a Plan B."

* * *

Exhaustion hits her hard before she's even three steps away from Emma's house. She feels her knees wobble and knows that she'll be lucky to make it fully down the walk and through the gate without collapsing and making a further fool of herself. Her prior experience with being sick after using magic had told her that it would take a few days more even after she was up and around to be back to full strength. This is most certainly pushing it, and she knows it.

That knowledge doesn't stop her from whirling her hand in order to transport herself home.

She feels the hard floor of the entry beneath her back, and there's a moment of relief because with her mind as chaotic as it is, she could have ended up literally anywhere. The moment passes quickly, though, because then everything is spinning and she knows that she's just seconds away from losing consciousness again. With her last thoughts before she does, she lifts up her hand and casts a locking spell on the front door. It's not nearly strong enough to keep Emma out if she decides to try to break through it, but at least it'll keep Henry from finding her.

Bad enough he already most certainly knows how far she'd fallen – she hopes he doesn't know any details besides that she'd been in some kind of fight in the alley – but worse if he should happen to find her in the state that she's currently in. At least if anyone has to find her (and she prays - all the while believing that no one is actually listening – that she comes to her waking senses all her own and he's none the wiser about her most recent collapse), it won't be him.

She stares up at the ceiling as it all swirls away from her.

Wondering if she wants to wake up again.

Wondering if there's anything worth waking up to.

She thinks Henry, and he's enough.

But yes, the argument aside, there is Emma as well.

And Snow. And Zelena and…

She refuses to have her legacy be the woman who was undone by a bitch in an alley.

The ceiling fades – she hears sounds around her; so much for her locking spell.

She hears, "Dammit, Regina."

She feels soft hands on her face, and sees flashes of blonde and brunette.

She mumbles out a half-formed, "I'm sorry."

And then lets the fever take her away again.

* * *

Consciousness fades in and out again, but it's better this time; she's ever-so-slightly awake at times, and it mostly feels like she's under some kind of netting as opposed to in the darkness. She feels soft cloths on her forehead and gentle hands upon her. Part of her believes that these touches should frighten her, but the rest of her welcomes the genuinely kind touches.

She hears snippets of conversations again, but these mean even less to her than they had before. She's vaguely aware of Emma and Zelena arguing, but sounds like just petty noise.

Sound to fill up a vacuum – to fill up the monstrous silence of this house.

She hears Henry talking to her, telling her he loves, telling her that everything is okay.

She feels his hand in hers, and wonders if he feels the way that she squeezes back.

It's another two days before she's finally fully back to herself once again. Finally, aware of everything (even if still exhausted), she's resting in her own bed once again. There are heavy winter blankets over her and she feels both perfectly warm and entirely too hot all at the same time. When the door opens to the room, she turns her head, her eyebrow lifting up at Snow.

Who smiles in relief for about half a second before the expression is replaced with anger.

"You moron," Snow says, as she stalks over to the bed. In typical Snow White fashion, she sits down in the chair next to the bed, grabs a cloth that's on the nightstand and then jams into a bowl of water that's also sitting there, wetting it fully before applying it to Regina's forehead.

Regina blinks, shifting slightly away from Snow's aggressive touch. "I think that's my line."

"Yeah, well, when I'm dead-unconscious on the floor of my entry because I'm a stupid idiot who won't accept help from the people who love her, then you can call me a moron, all right?"

"I suppose telling you that I'm fine will –"

"I might punch you."

"She might," Emma says from the doorway. "I might."

Emma's eyes bore into her, a thousand emotions reflecting back at her.

Some of them too frightening to spend too much time thinking about.

"I used up too much energy," Regina protests.

"Yeah, you did, and it was stupid. You didn't have to leave my house."

"Yes, I did. Where's Henry?"

"At school. It's just after ten in the morning. Did you have to leave because of me?" Emma asks, seeming hurt.

"I can't be there," Regina replies softly.

"Well then you could have come to the loft," Snow puts in, trying to place herself between a conversation that looks like it's about to get painful. These two women always have so much between them, and sometimes it's hard to figure out exactly what that is, but Snow knows both of them fairly well, and she knows that when they're coming from a place of hurt, nothing gets resolved. They need to take a breath, even out and then talk. But it's not quite time for that.

Which Emma seems to understand because she takes the slightest step backwards.

And watches from the doorway, that same wounded expression on her face.

"I don't want to be taken care of," Regina insists.

"Maybe we just see it as being there for you," Snow volleys back.

"Which implies that I'm weak."

"Was I weak when you were there for me after I took on the darkness?" Emma challenges, stepping forward once again. "Was I weak when you had my back in the Underworld?"

"You needed me."

"And now you need us," Snow states, her irritation boiling to the surface as she stares back at Regina. "And we're going to be here for you," the younger woman promises, her jaw set hard with determination. "So maybe you can stop pushing us away, and realize that family isn't just a word you get to throw around when you're the one doing the protecting. You're ours, too."

Regina's eyes close. "Okay," she says softly.

"Good. Then do you think you can stand up? I'm sure you would like to take a shower?"

Regina wrinkles her nose at that. "How long has it been?"

"Well, if we add in the week that you were dead out and the last couple of days when you were in and out," Emma sums up, "A whole lot longer than I think you'd be okay with." She pauses and frowns slightly because she knows that Regina isn't going to like what she says next. "But…"

"But what?"

"We made sure you were…" Emma shrugs.

Regina groans. "It just keeps getting worse, doesn't it?"

Curiously, both Emma and Snow note, Regina doesn't actually seem angry.

Just… more humiliated.

Which is its own problem judging by the sudden glassiness in her eyes.

"Nothing any of us haven't seen before," Emma tries. And tries to find Regina's eyes.

But Regina won't meet them, and that's just… odd.

So Snow says, "Well, how about we fix all of that and get you up so you can spend time in your own shower all by yourself." She offers a hand down to Regina, a soft smile on her lips.

Regina looks up at her, and then with something of a scowl, grabs for her, and lets Snow pull her up; her legs wobble for a moment and oh, there's Emma to catch her and keep her from falling, but Regina pulls away from her quickly, her free hand going out to find the nearby wall.

Emma backs away, that hurt confused kicked puppy look on her face once again.

"I'll be back," Regina mutters and as quickly as she can manage without passing out again, makes her way into the bathroom. She shuts and locks the door immediately, settling her back against it and letting out a deep breath. Part of her wants to cry, part of her wants to scream.

All of her just wants to feel like she's not spinning like a Ferris Wheel free of its framing.

But she is, and as she looks over at her lost and desperate expression in the mirror, she realizes that she has no idea how to stop it. Which means either she figures it out on her own or she accept the help that's being offered to her. Something she still struggles so very hard to do.

As it turns out, the reluctance to ever allow assistance had come from her and not the Queen.

But a week and a half ago, she'd ended up in a dirty alley, pushing away all of her instincts and swallowing pride that had actually been the good kind of pride in order to try to fit in and find a place for herself in this town even it had been an unnatural one. Her heart still broken from loss and yet aching from longing which she doesn't dare to acknowledge, she'd wanted to break free of the dreariness which had settled over her. But that's not how depression actually works.

You don't break free from it with force.

The town knows – the whole town knows. Even Henry knows… something.

He knows that something had happened and his mother had been felled by it.

Brought to her knees both figuratively and literally – in both cases, by poor choice.

A poor choice which she is now going to have to live with.

"What else is new," she mutters, her head dropping back against the door.

She thinks about Daniel and trying to kiss him awake. She thinks about pushing Mother through the mirror and of ripping out Daddy's heart. She thinks about Snow unconscious on a hill with an apple tumbling from her hand and Henry on a hospital bed. She thinks of Emma standing in the middle of swirling darkness because of her and then Robin… God, Robin. So many things.

She thinks about an alley, and rough stone against her back and beneath her knees.

She thinks about how, for a few moments there, she'd been somewhere else entirely, her mind flickering away even as her body had found the mechanics and rhythms of what was expected.

All of which makes her think about the King.

And then the Queen – her other half.

The one who had protected her and corrupted her.

She shouldn't miss the Queen… she shouldn't.

But the ground was rough beneath her knees and Robin is still dead, and Emma keeps looking at her with these eyes that are so hurt because Regina can't stop pushing her away.

There's Snow, and Zelena, and she knows that Zelena will have… some opinion on all of this.

She whispers the last piece, "Henry."

Because she wonders if he's ashamed of her. And wonders if she could protect him if someone came for him – if someone tried to hurt him in order to hurt the now vulnerable former queen.

Could she?

An answer doesn't come to her, but a knock on the door days.

Instinctively, without pause, Regina says, "I'm fine."

"Okay," Emma replies, "But we – I – have a problem that I need to take care of."

"You're free to go," Regina replies.

There's a pause – long and full and so insanely loaded down with…everything – but then Emma says quietly, her voice almost a whisper, "I am here for you, Regina. What happened, I don't care. I'll never care beyond caring that you're okay. And if you're not…well, I'm still here."

Another pause, like Emma is expecting a response, but then there are soft footsteps and a door being closed and Regina pushes away from the door and steps into the shower, tears already on her face as she rolls Emma's words around in her mind. As she thinks about Snow's promise.

She doesn't want to be a burden, doesn't want to be one that has to be taken care of.

But...she wants these people.

Wants them in her life, and even needs them to be there.

They want to be there, too, she realizes, the water splashing down against her body.

Maybe it's time to stop letting pride get in the way; they want to be there for her. They want to be her family.

A week ago, she had shoved her pride aside in an attempt to figure out who might be without the Queen.

But these people - Emma and Snow and all of them - they accept her either way.

It's mind-boggling and nearly impossible to accept but as the water runs cold, she knows that it's true.

And thinks that maybe it's time to stop fighting it, and let them in.

Maybe even Emma.

* * *

"Dad?" Emma asks as she gets to the alley, and beneath the glare of the mid-morning sun, finds her father and two paramedics; they're standing in front of a wall that she can tell is blood splattered. "What's going on here?"

"Hey," David answers grimly. He steps back and away, then, and that's when she sees it.

A week and a half ago, she'd seen a picture of this woman thanks to security cameras.

She'd look for her – for Anne – and come up empty, the woman clearly in hiding.

But she's been found now.

Emma looks up at the brick wall across from her.

Where a body – Anne's body - has been strung up.

She's bloody and shows signs of significant abuse.

But that's not what stands out. What stands out is the way both of her knees have been destroyed, cracked and broken like they were hit with something unimaginably hard.

And above her body – written in blood are the words: **KNEEL BEFORE YOUR QUEEN.**

Emma looks over at her father. "But Regina –"

"Didn't do this," David answers. "We know where she's been."

"Dad –"

"I think maybe the Evil Queen isn't dead at all," he suggests, serious and worried.

And so – her eyes still on the body, still on knees which have been robbed of their ability to hold a person up - Emma says the only words she can manage to come up with, "Well, fuck."

David says simply, "Yes."

 **:D**

 **TBC…**


	3. Three

**Warnings** : Some crass language, a smidgen of violence, self-loathing/depression and alas, some sadly necessary Hook. Robin is also mentioned.

Oh and a few hidden truths get revealed...

* * *

It's almost five in the afternoon before they get back to the mansion, and it's a bit strange to think of this place as meeting central considering how intimidating it had been for so long, but the moment Emma and David step through the door, both of their shoulders relax for just a moment. That is, before they think about the unenviable task that lies ahead of them. Namely telling Regina that the part of her which she had tried to destroy is refusing to stay dead.

And even worse, she appears to have anointed herself as Regina's protector. Again.

On the way back, Emma had tried to explain the Queen's role to her father. She had tried to explain to him how the Queen wasn't just Regina's psychotic alter ego who had lacked another reason for her spree of terror beyond just being evil; rather, she's the part of Regina that had been created to help her survive the things that she had otherwise not known how to survive. He'd listened attentively, but she'd known almost immediately that the words had gone over his head.

It's not his fault, really; the disconnect exists within the differences in the ways that they were raised. Yes, David had been forced to deal with a negligent alcoholic dad who had constantly let down his family, but even with as awful as that had undoubtedly been, it's a far cry from growing up adrift in the foster system or having Cora Mills as a mother.

David had had his mother and the peace with which to find himself. He'd been allowed to dream and hope for better, perhaps even been encouraged to do so. And then one day, those dreams had all come true. His life hasn't been perfect by any stretch of the imagination (and Regina – and/or the Queen depending on your perspective – had certainly been responsible for a massive amount of the darkness that he has experienced), but comparatively, it's been better.

He's never had to really wonder where love will come from or if it's toxic and dirty.

And he's never really had to wonder if the unspeakably dark things which live inside of him will one day overwhelm him to such a degree that every hope and dream that he ever had when his eyes and heart were still clear and hopeful will be washed away in a flood of fire and blood.

But she and Regina do wonder such things, and she does understand why the Queen exists.

That doesn't mean that they're not in very serious danger right now; the Queen had come about because a young girl had been abused and manipulated by so many people. She had come about because that same girl – heartbroken and afraid – had compounded all of the trauma of her upbringing by making bad choices that had damaged her just as much as the actions of others had. The Queen had been vicious and uncompromising in her quest for vengeance – in her need to make others feel every ounce of pain that Regina had ever felt. Now, it would seem that even even forcibly removed from sharing the same "house" with Regina, the Queen has decided that it is her duty to protect Regina in the deadliest and bloodiest of ways.

Emma can't imagine that Regina is going to be terribly thrilled to hear that.

At least not outwardly so.

Because as Regina had said back when they'd been in the bedroom of Emma's house, part of her had wanted the Queen to do exactly the things that she had – part of Regina had willingly stood back and let the Queen run wild because at least a small piece of her had been angry and wounded enough to be thankful that for once, someone else was hurting instead of her.

Emma gets that more than most people ever will.

And finds herself thinking about Lily kneeling down in the middle of the road, her arms out.

Sometimes, you don't want to stop the darkness inside of you.

Sometimes, you need someone else to help you stop it.

And that, she tells her father as they close the door behind them and step into Regina's mansion, is their job now.

To stop the darkness from overwhelming all of them.

* * *

Henry knows.

Not all of the details, of course (though too many of them, and he knows that the letter he has in his backpack is going to get him some kind of a talking-to at some point or another, but when someone talks about your mother and uses the word "whore," there's really only one thing that a son can do, and he's not one bit sorry that he had done it), but he knows enough of them that he's aware that his mom is hurting terribly right now and it's because someone had hurt her.

Which, he's finding as he gets older, he has little tolerance for.

But she doesn't need his anger right now – he's counting on Emma and his grandparents and the always ready-for-a-fight Zelena to bring that to the table.

Rather, she needs him.

Just him.

So when he finds her sitting in her study, on the couch and staring ahead at the flickering fire, he ignores the warning eyes of his grandmother from the kitchen (he knows that she means well, and she just wants to give his mother space, but…well, he knows her better than most and he thinks that she's probably had far too much space in her life). He steps into the den and smiles as fully as he can manage considering all of his colliding emotions. "Hey, Mom."

She looks up at him and immediately, her eyes warm to him. "Henry," she says softly.

"I stopped on the way home from school," Henry tells her, reaching behind him and pulling a box out of his backpack. It's small all white, and there's a familiar bakery logo on the side. "I know yours is better, but you did like their tiramisu when we tried it so…" he opens the box up and then shifts it around so that she can look inside of it and see the little cake sitting there.

She doesn't want to – doesn't mean to – but the moment he's tipping the box towards her, that bright smile on his lips, she feels her eyes fill up with tears and her throat painfully constricts.

"Mom?" he prompts after a moment, and it's the way that his smile fades which makes her react finally; it's the way that his hope dims which makes her pull herself out of her funk.

Because her little boy needs more than a mother who is falling apart.

"Thank you," she says softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. "You're too good to me, you know that, right?"

"You're my mom," he answers with an easy shrug, and for the briefest of moments, she thinks of when he hadn't believed that she was; she thinks of when he had rejected her and when moments like these had been hard to come by. But those days are long in the past and his words are so sincere, and when he's looking at her like this, all she can think about is how far they've come and how moments like this make every struggle that they'd ever had worth it.

"Get us two forks," she tells him, taking the box from him. "Share this with me."

"Okay," he nods, and then steps out of the study and into the kitchen. She hears a conversation occurring between Snow and Henry, and wonders if Snow is checking in on him to make sure he can handle all of this. The words are too fuzzy and low and her head is still pounding too much for her to try to focus, but her worst fears are starting to bubble up inside of her again and—

A door closes somewhere – heavy and loud, and after a moment, she realizes it was the front door. She hears Snow and Henry greet Emma and David as they return and then there are footsteps and Emma – looking tired and drawn, her expression wary and worried – is there.

"Hey," she says, leaning against the door-frame.

"Hey," Regina greets back. "Everything resolved?"

"Not quite. We need to talk."

Behind Emma, the others appear and Regina feels a coil of tension suddenly wind itself around her middle because all of them – including Henry – look agitated.

"Talk about what?" she demands.

"The Queen. Your murderous other half," David states, reminding everyone immediately exactly where Emma had inherited her unrelenting and sometimes untimely bluntness from.

Instinctively, not even thinking before she speaks, Regina says, "Henry, go upstairs."

"I can handle this."

Regina shakes her head. "I know you think that you can handle everything that…I know you think you can handle my past, sweetheart, but I don't want you hearing about the things she's done—" Regina swallows hard before jamming her hands together to keep them from twisting around anxiously. "The things that I've done—"

"She's done," Emma corrects. "As in present day."

"Excuse me?"

Emma looks over at her parents; immediately, Snow places a soft hand on Henry's shoulder and gently squeezes down. "Maybe you should—"

"I'm staying," he replies defiantly. "My place is here with my mother. Both of my mothers."

Emma sighs. "The separation doesn't appear to have taken."

"What does that mean?" Regina asks, standing up.

"It means that the Queen isn't dead," David answers. "She's alive. Here in Storybrooke."

"How is that –" Regina stops because if she doesn't know, they don't. "How do you know?"

"Because she dealt with a problem of yours from last week," he replies.

"A problem— her eyes shoot wide with horror. "Oh my God," she whispers, and then steps back and returns to sitting on the couch, one trembling hand settled flat over her belly.

Henry shakes his head. "I don't understand. What problem?"

Emma looks right at Regina and finds her eyes. "He'll hear about it one way or another. There were thirty people in the alley; I think it's better to hear it from us than from the rumor mill."

Regina just nods dumbly, her mouth slightly open, lips barely parted as shock slides over her.

"You know what happened at the bar last week," Emma says gently. She doesn't miss the way he suddenly flushes and though her first thought is that he's embarrassed to be talking about his mother's sex life, she quickly recognizes the emotion on her son's face for anger. It's then that she notices – as he clenches his fist – that there are tiny scrapes on his knuckles; she has a pretty fair idea of how they'd come about. "Kid?" she prompts.

"I know," he says darkly. His eyes flicker over to his mother, and if he'd looked upset before, it doubles when he takes in the almost distant and glassy way that she's staring right ahead.

Like she's struggling to figure out how to deal with any of this.

Emma nods her head slowly, clearly buying herself time as she tried to figure out her next words. Finally, "The person who was involved in what happened there…it would appear that the Queen got to her."

"Is she dead?" Henry asks, eyes still on his mother and how her gaze still hasn't changed. He tries to ignore the warm flush in the middle of his chest – the thing which feels almost like vicious glee that the person who had hurt his mother is gone. He knows that he doesn't want to feel such a thing, and knows that his mother – neither mother – would want that for him.

So he bites it back and focuses on his mother, on the way her hands continue to tremble.

"Yes," Emma admits, her tone short enough to tell Henry that there are details that are being left out – terrible details judging by how unnerved and anxious she seems to be. He knows that eventually, they will find a way to push him from the room and then the real truths will begin.

He supposes that he has to accept that even though it irritates him – and even though he sees himself as a man who is capable of heaving unsavory details and protecting his mother, they still see him as a young boy and probably always will. Still, he asks, "What happened to her?"

"The Queen made a statement," David inserts.

Suddenly, without warning, Regina stands up. She blinks, then does it again and finally says, "Henry, go upstairs, sweetheart; I need to have this conversation, and I can't have it with you here."

"Mom—

"Please," she asks, a waver to her voice which tells him that she's close to breaking down.

So he steps forward and he wraps his arms around her, and he's just slightly taller than her now – his arms broadening as puberty begins to strengthen him – and so when he pulls her into his hold, he actually feels like maybe he is protecting her. He hugs her tight, and feels her return the embrace, her fingers digging in and clutching at the soft cotton of his royal blue hoodie.

"I'm okay," she tries to tell him, and it's a sign of just how much resilience had been part of her and not necessarily the Queen that she's able to actually make it sound like she really is. But he can feel the way her fingers keep flexing as she holds onto him, and he knows his mother far too well to buy that she's handling any of this well. She'd wanted for so long to be free of the Evil Queen, and apparently, it simply isn't possible. Still, she says again to him, "I'm okay."

And he says, "I know," because he thinks that one way or another, they will find a way to be.

He steps back finally, and then turns his gaze to Emma and to his grandparents, and though he doesn't actually say the words – Regina likely wouldn't appreciate it if he did or she would try to counter them and again insist that she's fine – his intent his clear. He's telling Emma and telling Snow and David that it is their job to protect his mother. To ensure that they all survive this.

Emma nods, the motion just barely a tick forward of her chin. Henry's eyes stay with her for a moment longer, and it's like he's looking into her, seeing things that are messy and muddled within her heart and mind. When he finally steps back, Emma almost shivers beneath the intensity of his gaze and the way he seems to believe that she can be the strength here.

She wishes that she had the confidence in herself that he has in her.

He finally leaves the room – reluctantly, still glaring – after one last quick hug with Regina.

And then there's just the four of them staring at each other, anxious and agitated.

Emma takes a breath, and then reaches into her pocket and pulls out her cell phone. She punches through the password and then brings up her pictures and after the briefest moment of hesitation, she passes the phone over to Regina and lets her look at the picture of Anne.

But it's not Anne which Regina sees first – it's the words above the dead woman's head.

"Kneel before your Queen," Regina murmurs, tracing her nail lightly over the screen. "Well, I always was fairly good at making a statement that would get everyone's attention." She looks up at the others. "I assume that I don't need to tell you why she did what she did here."

"Emma said she's protecting you," David notes.

"She is," Regina answers dully. "That's what she's always viewed herself as. My protector."

"So she's not a threat to you?" Snow asks. "To us?"

"On the contrary, I would assume she very much is one. You remember when I told you that I wasn't going to let Emma harm Zelena because if anyone was going to, that was my job. My sister, my responsibility. I imagine she sees it much the same way. I betrayed her and so she'll deal with me on her own, but she's not going to let anyone else get there first. As for all of you, I honestly don't know but I would guess that all of you are in terrible danger." She looks at Snow at Emma. "Especially you two."

"Why us?" Emma queries.

Regina says nothing for a long moment.

"Regina," Snow prompts.

"You were on the roof with me when we split her off from me," Regina allows, the tone just short enough – and it seems her ability to lie is another thing she's lost – to undermine her.

"There's more," Emma realizes. "What else?"

Regina's head cocks to the side and she worries her bottom lip for a few moments, clearly resistant to saying the words which Emma is prompting for. With a sigh, she permits, "She might blame you for what happened with Robin. And for the happiness you have with…him."

"Hook."

"Yes." She looks down and away, as if ashamed by her admission. But then her head is lifting, and maybe the brutal defiance had belonged to the Queen, but Regina has enough of her own.

And she refuses to be bowed by the truth, even as ugly and corrosive as it might be.

"Do you blame me?" Emma asks then, her voice curiously quiet. Behind her, Snow and David shift and Snow is looking right at both of the women, her eyes narrowed in curiosity. Like she's trying to see something that maybe no one else sees, like she's trying to make it all make sense.

"Of course not. I want you to be happy, Emma." It's an honest answer – the truth. Mostly, anyway. Because deep down inside of her, there is a swirling pit of anger and jealousy towards the pirate and his remarkable fortune. That those feelings have spread out towards Emma is something she very much is ashamed of, but she also knows that pretending the feelings don't exist is a waste of time. At least internally. Externally, it's something she doesn't want anyone to know about because how could they possibly understand such feelings? After all of the support and forgiveness this family has given her, for her to begrudge any of them happiness?

Unthinkable, and so she chooses not to think about it.

And thankfully, Emma chooses to allow her words to be taken at face-value.

There's a look in her eyes, though, and Regina knows that this conversation isn't over.

For now, though, it is because there's a woman's body attached to the wall of an alley where just a week and a half ago, Regina had been horribly humiliated. And before that, Regina had felt like she'd been being watched, thought she'd seen the sneering gaze of the Queen. Turns out she hadn't imagined any of that, and the Queen is here in Storybrooke and quite angry.

"I don't imagine we have a way to figure out who she plans to go after," David sighs.

"We do," Regina counters. "If I know here…if I had to guess, I would say there are two lists. Anyone she views as a threat to me." She holds up the picture of Anne. "And…" Her eyes flicker up to them, going from David to Snow to Emma, "Anyone she views as important to me."

"So a threat to her," Snow notes.

"Yes."

"Will she prioritize one list over the other?" Emma asks.

"She will want to destroy the people I love," Regina swallows hard at that, struggling against all of the emotions deep within her. "The people who anchor me. And that is all of you. But if there is someone who she views as in need of being punished, they will take up her attention."

"Hook," Emma says again.

Regina's eyes close. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Help me stop her." Her head tilts. "Unless you don't want to stop her." It's an honest question, but it rips right through to Regina's heart, and reminds her just as much everyone still views her as mostly the beast. Even divorced from the Queen, the worst expectations of her remain. Only in this case, she realizes, Emma's probably not wrong.

But she has to be.

So Regina opens her eyes, and there are tears there but she lifts her chin and says, "I don't want you hurt, Emma. Whether you want to believe that or not, I promise you that it's the truth. You…love him, and no matter my feelings about him, that's enough for me. So if you need my help stopping her from hurting him so that you can be happy, you will always have it."

"That wasn't what I meant," Emma insists. "I wasn't accusing you."

"Yes, you were, and I don't blame you for it; I'm the one who told you what my first instinct with Hook was." And then she's dropping the phone down to the couch and walking out of the room, her heels clicking loudly as she tries to keep herself put together. As she tries not to wonder how many more times she can take a direct hit to the middle of her heart and survive.

There's Daniel and her father and her mother and there's Robin's death and then there's these people who she knows deep down inside of her have every right to doubt her…doubting her.

She doesn't get far, though, before there's a hand on her shoulder. Soft, tentative. She turns towards it and looks into Emma's bright green eyes. "That's not what I meant," she says again.

"Then what did you mean?"

"I don't doubt you, Regina. I don't doubt that you will have my back and be there for me. I don't doubt your friendship or…anything that you are to me or that I am to you. And I don't doubt that you will put me first. You've been doing that for years now. It was just…just a question about what you really feel about things. Not an accusation. Not doubts. Just a question."

"You really want the answer?" Regina challenges, hearing the soft steps that indicate that David and Snow are close but somewhat holding back to allow the two women this moment together. "You really want the truth?"

"Yes. From you, always."

"Fine. Don't say you didn't ask." She takes a breath and then says, "I loathe him, Emma. I have reasons of my own for my dislike, but...well, my feelings for him have never been a secret. Even if I didn't have my own issues with him, I'd have issues with him on behalf of you. I've told you several times before that I think he's not worthy of you and never will be. I've told you several times that I don't particularly want him around Henry and I don't want him around you, either. But, I recognize that that's not my choice to make, and I will support your choice...whatever it is. But the simple truth is, somehow or another, Hook was granted a second and a third and…all the chances he needs to ensure that he gets his happy ending. He has done very little to earn that besides fall in love with you , but— Regina smiles then, watery and bright and so very sad. "I suppose that for some people, maybe loving you is more than enough."

"Some people? Regina –"

"We should get to Hook. If the Queen is on the move, and she is no longer bothering to try to hide herself, she's likely been simmering for weeks. And now, she can do something about it."

"Regina's right," Snow says as she steps forward. "As someone who was rather relentlessly hunted by the Queen, I'm intimately familiar with the lengths that she will go to." Her eyes find Regina's and then hold them. "And I am also aware of the reason why I am still alive today."

"Okay," Regina says, the point made to her loud and clear. "Emma, try—

"I am," Emma replies, holding up her phone. "No answer." She hangs up and then looks over at her parents. "Let's split up – I doubt he's at the house right now, but you two check there, anyway. Regina and I will head towards the _Jolly Roger_ and see if that's where he maybe is."

"I'll get ahold of Zelena and see if she's willing to wander into town and take a look around."

"She will," Regina murmurs and then frowns.

"What?" Emma prompts. Then, her head cocked. "Will the Queen go after her?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Zelena can take care of herself," Snow assures her. "She's strong. And resilient. Like you."

"I know," Regina agrees. And then says it again like she's convincing herself.

"What if we find the Queen?" David asks, re-tracking the conversation.

"You take her out," Regina says immediately. Then, more softly, "But just don't…kill her."

"It seems that we can't do that, anyway," Snow notes grimly. "We still have some of Blue's dust at the loft. We'll use that to try to contain her if we find her."

"Good," Emma nods.

"But we'd better send them back to the loft," Regina tells her. "Because time—

"Is of the essence. Right," Emma concurs, and then she is twirling her fingers around and saying, "Be careful and stay in touch." When the white-gray smoke clears, it's just the two of them in the room. And then as Emma turns and catches sight of someone whom she had - perhaps stupidly - assumed to have left the room, she sighs out an exasperated, "Henry."

"So what do I do?" he asks, hands on his hips. "What do you need from me?"

"You to be home when we get home," Regina tells him, stepping forward. She reaches out with both of her hands and gently cups either side of his face. "I know you want to be involved in this, but both Emma and I need you to be safe. You are our rock, Henry." She smiles slightly over at Emma, letting her know that her next words aren't about excluding her or diminishing her relationship with Henry, but rather about Regina trying to remind Henry what he means to her. "You're my rock. I wouldn't be here…I wouldn't still be able to fight back if it weren't for you. All the faith and trust that you have given me, each time that you believed in me…you made me stronger and now what I need most to know is that when this is over, I'll get to come home to you and then you and I can share that tiramisu that you got for us. That's what I need."

Emma waits almost half a minute before she says anything – she lets them have the time for Regina's words to really sink in, and then she steps forward and places a hand on Regina's forearm, a gentle reminder that they might be dealing with an hourglass rapidly running out of sand, and then says to Henry, "She's right, Kid – you're our everything. And we need you here."

His eyes flicker over both of them, taking in their tension, and yet how they're standing together. "Then just promise me that both of you are coming home. I can't lose either of you."

"You won't," they both say at the same time, and then share a slightly awkward smile.

His only response is to dive in with both arms – one reaching around each of his mothers. He hugs them both tightly, bringing them together, bringing them all together like he always does.

When it's over, he steps back and watches them leave together in a flush of gray-white smoke.

His moms.

The warriors of this town.

The ones who always save the day.

They'll come back, he tells himself.

Together, like always.

They promised him that they would.

* * *

It'll be nightfall within a few minutes and the brisk air is stinging his cheeks; he misses that feel some days more than he can put into words. It's a feeling which he has largely pushed away because if he thinks too much about it, he'll think about the ocean which he won't see every morning when he wakes up.

He'll think about four walls and how the room he's in doesn't rock or sway.

And he can't think any of those things because this is the dream – having love and having a future that isn't full of blood and smoke – and he thinks anything is worth having that, right?

"You look like you're deep in thought, Captain," he hears suddenly, the sound low and throaty. He recognizes the speaker immediately even if the tone being used is more intense than usual. Turning around, he takes Regina in, his eyes sweeping over the leather skirt and almost skimpy blood-red blouse which she's wearing. Neither the skirt nor the blouse are as impressive as the four inch black heels which she's wearing. It's a bit of a strange look for the Regina Mills that he has come to know here – the one who is more of a grouchy PTA Mom than Evil Queen.

"Your Majesty," he drawls. "What brings you here? Shall we have us another talk?" He's reminding her of the last time they'd met on a dock, when he'd been the Dark One and she'd been trying to talk him down. She'd used his first name then, so confident that she could get through to him. He'd choked her for her efforts and perhaps – considering the animosity which has continued to grow between the two of them as of late – he's reminding her of that now.

She smiles at him in response, and he feels a shiver race up his spine. Because the look she's giving him isn't one that the woman whom he'd argued with a few days ago in one of the bedrooms of Emma's house seems capable of giving him. This look is amused and dangerous.

Like she's playing with him as a cat would a mouse.

It reminds him a whole lot of the Evil Queen.

"Oh…Killian," she chuckles, and he thinks that his name sounds like poison coming from her lips. "Dear, I just thought perhaps we could clear the air a bit. Seems like we have some…issues between us and you know how desperately I dislike unfinished business."

"Do we now?" he chuckles, trying to hide his creeping discomfort.

"Yes. With Emma."

He laughs loudly. "On the contrary, Regina, we have no issues to discuss as far as Emma goes. She's with me. I've moved in with her. And I'm going to stay with her. So whatever your misguided feelings for her are, I would suggest you find a new person to work them out on."

The words are barely out of his mouth before he's being lifted up into the air, his windpipe immediately closing around the air that's trying to move through him. His hands scrabble to his throat and he gasps, fingers clawing at skin as she squeezes her hand inwards, her eyes dancing with a dangerous purple energy. "I'm sorry," she says. "I don't think I quite understood you."

His eyes bulge and for a moment, as the oxygen flees his system, Hook truly believes that she might actually kill him right here and now. But then, thankfully, she's loosening her hand and allowing him to hit the hard wood with a painful crunch. Wincing and gasping for air, he looks up at her. "You're just as crazy without the Queen," he growls at her, his hand over his throat.

She smiles almost pleasantly at him, but he notices that the purple is still there. "That's all very well, but I would like you to explain exactly what you meant by the last statement you made."

"Which part? The part about me living with Emma or the part about your sick obsession with her? Because I would think that after the death of your supposed soulmate, you'd be a bit more focused on who you already hurt as opposed to how much you can ruin someone else's life."

"You actually want to die, don't you, Pirate?"

"You won't kill me," he says. "Because Emma would never forgive you. She loves me."

"Love is mutable," she replies, her expression almost a sneer of disgust. "It disappears. It fades. It's betrayed and thrown away like it's nothing. And then, dear, all there is left are ashes."

Hook stares back at her for a moment and then quietly, "You're not Regina, are you?"

"Oh, he does have a brain inside that pretty head. It's small and useless, but it apparently can be found." She laughs, then, and she's every bit the Queen. A flick of her hand and the outfit – already wrong for Regina – is gone. Replaced by a royal blue dress with glittering silver trim.

Hook's eyes close for a moment and he lets out a ragged breath. "At least tell me: are you going to kill me because I lived while Robin died or because you want Emma all for yourself?"

"Can't it be both?"

"Even if she could love you, it wouldn't be you she loves. She'd want the other you. Regina."

"You know," she purrs. "What your beloved actually feels, don't you?"

"I know that she loves me. That she chose me."

"Choices change," the Queen replies coldly. "And soon, you won't be one at all."

He blinks, not understanding, not comprehending, but then he's being lifted up again and—

"Stop!"

Hook hits the deck hard once again, his body aching from the second fall within just a few minutes. Wincing, a hand settled over his bruised ribs, he pushes himself halfway up against the metal railing separating the dock from the water, leaning there as he fights to pull oxygen into his burning lungs. As he starts to get control over his own breathing, he hears high-heeled footsteps rapidly approaching – two sets of them – and he just manages to lift up his head so that he can watch Emma and Regina rushing down the planks, both of their hands glowing.

"Killian?" Emma calls out at him. "Are you all right?"

He half-heartedly waves his hook at her as if to tell her that he's fine, trying not to notice how she doesn't move towards him to check on him. Yes, he'd waved her away, but still...

There are other things that he's noticing…things he wishes he could pretend not to notice.

Like the way Emma and Regina are standing shoulder-to-shoulder, completely in-sync.

Like the way Emma's hand goes to Regina's elbow to stop her from surging towards the Queen.

And how it then slides up to Regina's bicep in an unmistakable gesture of support for her.

He tries not to notice these things, but it's like a rung bell, and it's all right there for him.

He thinks he's always seen something curious between them, but it's never really mattered.

Because he loves Emma and Emma loves him.

That's always been more than enough; he's never been a man who has lacked for confidence when it comes to getting and keeping women. Emma had been harder and more difficult than most but when she'd come around and seen the potential with him, he'd believed that this was the beginning of everything for him – for the two of them. That this was the great love story.

Now, even though he can't quite understand why he's worrying, he finds himself wondering.

Because Emma's hand is still on Regina's bicep, and Regina isn't moving away from her. If anything at all, it almost seems like Regina is drawing strength from the physical connection.

He hears then, "Well, this is unfortunate; I was about to take care of a problem for us."

Regina answers, her voice so quiet and emotional that he finds himself unable to doubt the sincerity of her words, "Maybe it _is_ a problem, but you know I won't let you hurt Emma."

He thinks, as he lowers his head to cough, that something is either beginning or ending today.

He has no idea which one it is.

Maybe both.

The Queen stares back at them with open disdain, her dark stormy eyes flickering over to Emma for a moment before they move back to Regina and settle there. "We can do better."

"We're not in this together," Regina reminds her. "And we're not here to choose…anything."

"No, I suppose we're not. By your choice not mine."

"You had to go."

"And what has ridding yourself of me done for you? It's made you weak. A pathetic mess."

Emma starts to speak, starts to defend the woman standing next to her, but this time it's Regina reaching out for her to stop her. This time it's Regina sliding her hand down and gently taking and squeezing Emma's writs to let her know that for the moment, at least, Regina has this under control. To the Queen, she says, "Yes. Which means that I don't need your help."

"Don't you? You let that filthy…street rat defile you in the middle of a dirty alley like you were nothing but one of those cheap women that our _sweet_ Captain over here frequented," the Queen spits back at her, and then for the briefest of moments, her eyes are on Emma again, and there's an almost malicious smirk there as she sees Emma's quick-flash startled look (Emma assuredly knows of who Hook had taken into his bed, but to have it presented so crassly and bluntly can be a shock to even someone as well-lived as Emma). "You always did have poor taste in bed-partners, didn't you, Regina? So much breeding and you choose the pathetic—"

"We're not here to talk about my choice in bed-partners," Regina cuts in sharply.

"Bed-partners or non-bed-partners, isn't that exactly why we're here? Isn't it your choice in partners the reason why you chose to separate us?" the Queen demands, her hands glowing. Emma feels the way Regina's grip on her wrist increases, and for a moment, it's confusing because even like this, Regina is no wallflower, but then she realizes that it's not about her seeking protection from Emma but rather about Regina providing it to the Savior. It's about Regina attempting to protect her from the Queen's wrath. Which, of course, the Queen notices, her nostrils flaring with undisguised rage. "You created me when Daniel died thanks to your precious Savior's mother and then you tore me out of you and discarded me like cheap trash when Robin died because of her and her pirate. Because you decided that your pathetic simpering friendship with a girl who could never love you is worth more than I am to you."

"That's not what happened," Regina states, her grip on Emma's wrist increasing again. To the side of them, Hook is stirring again, trying to push himself away from the rail like he could help.

"Stay," the Queen snaps, seeing his movements. And then there's purple magic binding him hard to the rails. "I'll get to you in a moment. I can't wait to see how black your heart still is."

"Not as black as yours," he replies.

"Killian," Emma warns, not even glancing back at him, her eyes on the Queen. "Don't."

The Queen laughs loudly, the magic increasing; there's a splash of color and then it's clear that he's been gagged and rendered mute. "Shush, Captain; even Emma knows you should be dead. But worry not, I'll make sure that before we're done here, you'll be rotting away again."

"Killing him won't bring Robin back," Regina insists. "Nothing can bring Robin back."

"No," the Queen agrees. "But I can make sure that everyone burns."

"I don't want that. I want move forward. I want to try to be happy."

"You know that's not possible. Only pain and loss are. And I plan to make everyone see that."

"Including me?"

"Perhaps starting with you. You did kill me." She shrugs. "Or at least you attempted to."

"You're not touching her," Emma growls out.

Another laugh tears free from the Queen. "How does that make you feel, Captain? Your assumed beloved who corrupted your soul because she doesn't know how to be alone without a warm body resting beside her tells you to be silent but warns me against hurting my lesser half. Seems to me you might have reason to worry about more than just Regina's feelings."

"Shut up," Regina orders, the tone surprisingly ferocious, almost like she's afraid.

"Oh, don't want the cat out of the bag."

"I want you out of my life."

"No, you don't. And that's the most terrifying part isn't it? You don't actually want me gone, Regina. You see, I've been watching you for weeks now. I have watched you trying to control your anger and your grief, and I have watched you struggling with your magic and being afraid that you wouldn't be able to be powerful enough to protect Henry or any of these…people from Hyde. I watched you burning with fever after you used dark magic but you were too afraid to reach out to anyone because you know that they see you as pathetic. Just as I do."

"We don't," Emma snaps back.

"No, as it turns out, you see her in an entirely other kind of way, don't you?"

"Stop," Regina growls.

The Queen's eyes slide back over to her. "You can fight it all you want – lie to yourself all you want, but you need me. Without me, you're weak and bleeding out all over the place. You can't even hide what you feel for a woman who sent you to die. Who is happy at your expense."

"Perhaps not, but I still won't let you hurt her. Or anyone in my family."

"But that doesn't include him. Because he's not your family. He's the man who left you to be tortured –" she looks over at Emma and again sees surprise in the Savior's green eyes. "He's the man who won her love by simply existing while you fought to prove yourself worthy. You hate him just as much as I do," the Queen reminds her, shifting all of their gazes over to Hook who continues to struggle against the rail. For emphasis, the Queen squeezes her hand and he lets out a pained moan. Emma takes a step towards him, but suddenly finds her movements stilled. "No, no, Savior – the choice whether or not the pirate lives or dies belongs just to Regina."

"And I've made my choice. I don't want your help. I don't want your blood on my hands."

"Very well," the Queen says quietly, almost seeming as though she's once again been hurt by Regina. She steps back and away from them, then, and says, "But mark my words: before this is all over, you'll be pleading for me to be back with you, within you again. And you know it."

She jerks her hand up, then, and a brilliant flush of deep purple smoke clears the air.

"She's just beginning," Emma says quietly, before the smoke is even gone. When Regina looks over, she sees Emma bent down next to Hook now, an arm around him to support his weight. Normally, she'd feel a flash of...something at this, but Emma's eyes are still on her, and for all of the physical support that she's giving Hook, he truly might as well not even be there.

Because the world is just these two women and all of the bombs that have just been tossed down between the two of them – sitting there like landmines just waiting to be set off.

"I know," Regina says finally, sounding tired. After a moment, the intensity of Emma's gaze (and the knowing of Hook's) becomes too much and so she turns and looks at the water.

Wondering if there is a way to reset everything – knowing that there isn't.

Wondering where the Queen has gone to – terrified to find out.

Wondering if the Queen is right about how much she needs her.

All the while knowing that she is.

 **:D**

 **TBC…**


	4. Four

**Notes** : There is a semi-long argument between Emma and Hook (no break-up yet, but some things get thrown out on the table between the two of them which will have ramifications), some language, some talk of torture and some violence. The ladies also discuss Regina's magical tutelage.

* * *

"I need to take Killian home," Emma says softly, after too much time has passed between the three of them in uncomfortable silence. Hook is still bent over, and she can feel the tightness of his grip against the cloth of her coat. The slightly constricting hold makes her itch just a bit and she tells herself that she's just on-edge and it's nothing more than that.

"I know," Regina replies, her just barely audible words breaking through the storm clouds that are quickly filling up Emma's mind; she's thankful for Regina's interruption, thankful for anything that will help her to not think about all that the Queen had just said. She's less thankful for the fact that Regina is still staring out at the water, watching the sun go down and all the while refusing to turn around. She thinks for a moment that it's an oddly meek choice from a woman who has never lacked courage, but then she sees the slump of Regina's shoulders, and thinks that it's very likely resignation she's recognizing.

A painful understanding that there's no way that any of this ends well for any of them.

Before this is all over, someone is going to be something less than what they were.

Either physically or emotionally, but somehow or another, it just feels inevitable.

Because Evil Queen is back, and it would seem that in order to stop her permanently (Emma harbors no delusions that the Queen will sit on her hands simply because Regina had told her that she doesn't want her protection), they will have to come up with a far more dramatic solution. Possibly even one that Regina won't be able to live with. And in the meanwhile, they'll have to keep the Queen from going after any of the people whom she feels has failed Regina.

Which, when you look at it from the point of view of a protector… well, that could be quite the list, indeed. Emma imagines that considering how much the Queen appears to loathe her and to resent Regina's… feelings for her, well then she's probably somewhere on the list as well.

Feelings.

God.

Hook's arm tightens again, almost like he knows where her mind had been going. He clears his throat and says her name in something of a raspy whisper, and while she has no doubt that he's in some degree of pain, she thinks that he's very likely milking his sore ribs for effect, but she really does need to take care of him. He's her love and… Regina is okay right now. Right?

One glance up at the older woman's wool coat clad back and Emma knows that the answer to that question is a definitive no. So she says, "I'm going to get Killian back to my house—"

"Our house," he corrects, smirking ever so slightly, his eyes on the Queen's back as well.

"Not now," Emma says sharply, still looking at Regina, hoping she will eventually turn around. She feels Hook shift and tighten at that and knows that she's upset him, but for the moment, though he's wounded, he's not who she's overly concerned about right at the moment; once they're back at the house, she can heal him up and he'll be good as new, but the woman with her back to her is in the middle of a complete emotional rebuilding of herself. She tries again. "I am going to take him home and get him settled and then I'll meet you back at your place."

"You don't have to," Regina replies, finally turning, and oh, her eyes are unmistakably wet, and there are noticeable tear-tracks down her cheeks. But then her head is lifting and her jaw is clenching, and in that moment, Emma is seeing all of the fierce unwavering courage which she has always seen in Regina. There's sadness and something that Emma thinks is – much to her chagrin – probably a lot like humiliation there, but there's also stubbornness and even anger.

There's this defiant downright rebellious look there which says that she won't be the simpering pathetic woman which the Queen expects her to be without the Queen around to protect her. Without meaning to, Emma finds herself wondering about the girl who had once saved Snow White from a runaway horse. The brave girl who had existed before the Queen and who had dared to defy her mother.

The one who had paid so dearly, but had still existed all the same.

The one whose heart has always been beating even during the ugliest of times.

So many stories, Emma thinks… so many stories that she thinks that maybe Hyde – terrible wretched worthless bastard though he'd been - might have been right about it being time for some of those stories to finally be told.

"We need a plan," Emma manages after several long seconds. There are different words which she might have liked to have to said – different things that she might have liked to have done such as step towards Regina and offer her some kind of support in a moment when she so very clearly needs it – but these words and these motions are the safe ones. Because Hook still has his arm slung around her, and the pride which Regina needs right now will not allow her to look weak in front of a man whom she loathes nor a woman whom she very much… does not loathe.

"Yes, a plan," Regina agrees and for a moment – just a moment – her courage falters and she can't seem to find Emma's eyes. But then she takes a deep breath and steadies her shoulders, her entire body straightening up. "You should get him to safety and make sure that there are some protective safeguards put in place just in case she decides to return to finish the job."

"I'll be ready for her," Hook replies defiantly, lifting his hook up as if to prove her point. He's not a man incapable of fighting battles – three hundred years and he knows his way around a fight.

But such things – all of the experience in the world with pistols and cutlasses and weapons where hands once were – will mean little against the kind of terrible magic the Queen has, Regina knows. She shakes her head. "As impressed with your hook as you might be, it'll be little deterrent against her. If the Queen wants you dead, trust me, you'll be dead."

"Do you think she'll return for him?" Emma asks, her body unconsciously coiling in anticipation.

Regina doesn't hesitate; she shakes her head in the negative. "No, not tonight. She'll be off… sulking and seething and scheming somewhere. All the same, take care of your pirate. He's not looking particularly well. I'll see you in a few hours." She turns away and then walks back down the dock, her heels clicking loudly against the wooden planks. She doesn't cast a single look back at them, doesn't regard Hook at all, just keeps moving like she can't tolerate stopping.

Emma thinks that using motion to survive is just one more thing that they have in common.

Emma sighs and slides her arm lower around Hook's waist so as to allow him to push more of his weight onto her. "Let's get you into bed," she says, her eyes flickering across the dock as she checks for any kind of threat. She's inclined to go with Regina's assessment of the situation – after all, who knows the Queen better than she – but still, the unexpected should be expected.

It's just the way of Storybrooke and of their lives.

Hook chuckles, bringing her attention back to him. "I like the sound of that."

She lifts an eyebrow at him and then shakes her head. "Sorry, not tonight, sailor. We need to work on stopping the Queen," she tells him, and then slight cringes when she hears her own unimpressed tone.

So does he. "I can help," he reminds her. "I do have some old-world experience with her."

"With the Evil Queen?" Off his nods, she queries, "Was she ever out to get you there?"

"No. We were working together," he allows. "I helped her to… kill her mother. Sort of."

"Lovely," she replies with a sigh as she moves them fully off the railing so that they can transport back to the house. "But no, you're hurt. You should rest. We've got this covered."

"Perhaps so, but I'd prefer not having the Queen nor Regina around you at the moment."

She stops moving and looks down at him sharply. "I'm going to say this just once, Killian, and then I want to not have this conversation again. She's my friend among… many other things, and whether or not I'm around her or anyone else for that matter is not ever going to be your choice to make."

"It's the 'many other things' part that I'm worried about," he tells her, his lip curling. "And I would say that I have a right to be unsettled about her affections for you. And yours for her."

Her grip around him loosens as pulls back slightly; she feels the tension in him increase at the distance she puts behind him, but doesn't care. "Are you actually jealous of me and Regina?"

"That's a good thing, isn't it? Would you want me not to care?" he protests.

"I think that if you don't trust me around someone, then maybe we have some much bigger problems than attractions that may or may not actually exist between Regina and myself."

"They exist. You know and I know it. Pretending they don't—" he shakes his head. "I know her."

"No, you don't," Emma cuts him off brusquely, her voice rough and uncompromising. "I'm not sure that I entirely know who this Regina is, but I do know that she's not your enemy—"

"Her evil half just tried to murder me," he angrily reminds her, and now he's pulling back, too.

"Her evil half may have, but our Regina stopped her from doing it."

" _Your_ Regina, not mine. Still means she wants me dead." He cocks his head. "Do you? Would that have made things so much neater for you? For both of you? Two dead male lovers and—"

"I would stop right now if I were you. Or else the male part of you might be in question."

He puts up his hand and waves it in some kind of lazy show of deference. "You're right; I'm out of line. But Regina and I, we share much in common, Swan, and one of those things is that we're very used to getting what we want."

"I'm not a possession, Killian."

"I didn't say that you were."

"Sure sounded like you were suggesting it. I'm not something to be obtained or won."

"I know," he tries to placate, but his eyes are still blazing and his anger is still boiling, and his effort is as lazy as his prior wave of his hand had been.

"Good. As for Regina? Whatever else is going on with her right now or going on with she and I, she just lost the man that she loved. And she has never once tried to get between us."

"Now is as good a time as any," he laughs and moves back over to the rail across from her.

"Doesn't sound like you have much faith in us," she calls after him.

"Should I?"

"Are you kidding me? I followed you down to the goddamned Underworld!"

"And when I came back to the living world for you, you were letting me go," he accuses.

She shakes her head in disbelief. "You told me to let you go! Repeatedly!"

Ignorant of his bruised ribs, he steps aggressively and angrily towards her, his body dangerously coiled. "But you never did! And what did I end up with besides more blood on my hands."

"Blood that you chose to put on your hands," she reminds him. "We all had choices."

"Yeah," he agrees. I suppose that we did. Except you took mine away from me. I asked you not to and you still took it away. You knew I couldn't… you knew. But it didn't matter, did it?"

She looks away from him, and for several moments, there's just the sound of water moving.

Then, quietly, Emma asks, "Did you leave Regina to be electrocuted? Is that the truth?"

He startles a bit at that, clearly thrown by a memory from years before – back before there had even been a them. "What? What does this have to do with…is everything about that witch?"

"Killian, answer the question. The Queen said you left Regina to get tortured. Did you?"

He sighs and reluctantly allows, "It was a long time ago. I was a different man then. And the circumstances were… complicated. She'd left me to die and I had my eye on the Crocodile. I can't say I acted terribly honorably there, but my actions were not… I had my reasons for it."

"That's a shit answer and you know it. Eventually you have to fight what's inside of you."

"Ah, so that's what that was all about. A way to tell me that I failed."

"That's not –"

"But you weren't doing too much fighting back, either, were you?"

"Yes, I was. For you," she reminds him, seeming almost desperate.

He shakes his head and then gestures animatedly at her. "No. Let's at least be honest here. You did everything that you did including going to the Underworld for _you_ , Swan. Because you are absolutely terrified of being alone. So terrified that you would destroy someone to keep them."

Tears streak down her cheeks. "I'm not… I'm not going to do this with you. I'm not."

"Of course not. Because poor upset Regina needs _you_. So that's where _you_ need to be."

"You know what? Regina wouldn't want me fighting her battles with you for her, so I won't. What's between the two of you is between the two of you. But I'm not one of those things."

"Tell yourself whatever you need to, but since we're talking so bloody much about our choices here, it seems to me that before this is all over, you're going to have make one of your own."

"Yeah? And what choice is that?"

"I guess you'll have to figure that out for yourself, now won't you?" he replies and then starts away from her. Wincing in pain, he moves down the dock, his arm slung over his midsection.

She reaches out for him, wide-eyed and desperate. "Killian, come on, you're hurt. Let me—"

"No. The _Jolly Roger_ is right up ahead. Since you don't need my help, and I know that you're desperate to get back to Regina, I'll make my own way there and stay there for the night."

Hurt and defensive, she refuses to chase after him or beg. Not after all that she already done. "And if the Queen comes for you? Because unless you've been holding back, you don't know how to set up magical wards. If she comes for you again, you'll be defenseless against her."

He laughs, the sound mean and dark and for a moment, he's very much the man who had stood across from her in the living room of their little house and called her an orphan and an anchor. He's very much the one who had told her that he wanted to hurt as much as she had hurt him. As much as she wishes she could push these thoughts down and under the word "love", now that they're in her mind, she's struggling to get herself out of those moments with him. Struggling to get away from the question of how do you go back before such words were said?"

"I'm never defenseless," he reminds her, patting his jacket where his pistol is likely holstered. "But since Regina's word mean so much to you, tell me, will the Queen come for me tonight?"

Knowing exactly what his response will be, she says anyway, "Regina says no. I trust her."

"Well, then, I guess that settles that then. Since Regina says I'll be safe from her murderous other half, who wants me dead so that she can mourn Robin Hood and then go after you… I suppose that I should be just fine, right?" Emma tilts her head at him, the frustration in her eyes as clear as the desperation is. She starts to say his name, starts to protest his assumptions, but he moves away from her, refusing to give in. He turns his back on her, the leather of his jacket gleaming thanks to the moonlight. "Be sure to give Regina a proper kiss goodnight for me."

"This is stupid," Emma insists, tears in her eyes as her mind races through all of the events of the last several months – the choices and sacrifices and the bad decisions. All for the sake of fighting for this much talked about and much desired ideal known as happiness. "I'm with you."

He stops moving, his body going still like he's considering her words. After a long moment, he nods. "You are. The question is whether that means a damned thing to you." One more nod and then he continues to walk away from her, his boots as loud on the planks as Regina's heels had been.

* * *

"Regina!"

She's barely inside the door to the mansion before she hears the sharply accented voice of her sister, and then there are hands on her shoulders, and it takes her a moment to remember that this is the relationships she now shares with Zelena. While she's desperately glad for it, it's still just a bit jarring at times considering all they've been through together – so much of it painful.

But they're sisters, and they're family, and she's worked too hard at this to ever give it up.

"I'm alright," Regina says softly, patting Zelena's hand for a moment before she moves away. She looks over to watch as David and Snow approach with Henry shadowing just a few feet behind them. "We found her with Hook. He's… all right. He's bruised up, but he'll live."

"That's a shame," Zelena notes, shrugging her shoulders as if to add on a casual "oh well".

"Zelena," Snow scolds, using her most patented teacher voice (which makes Zelena roll her eyes and then saunter off to pick up her daughter so she can rock her). Then, "And Emma?"

Regina runs a hand through her hair, looking somewhere well past exhausted. "She's taking him back to her… their house so that he can rest. She'll be here later." She steps around them, then and moves over to where Henry is. "I told you that I would be back. I promised you that I would be, and I will not break another promise to you." She touches his face gently. "I will not."

"I know, Mom," he reassures her, trying to remind her with his smile and his calm that he's not a small child; he can handle anything as long as she comes home. "But are you really okay?"

"It's been a long night," she admits. She looks over at Snow and David. "She's truly back."

"We'll find a way to defeat her," Snow promises.

"And what if we don't?"

"We always find a way," David reminds her, his bright blue eyes shining with so much hope.

"How you deal with all of this obnoxious 'we can do it' is utterly beyond me," Zelena drawls.

"And what would your suggestion be?" Snow challenges. "Snark until you betray someone?"

"Oh! Is little Snow White still a bit upset about the difficulties we've had in our past?"

"Difficulties? Well, you did try to steal my child and use him for a time travel spell."

"I did," Zelena nods. "That didn't quite work out for me. But it _was_ a valiant attempt."

"Zelena," Regina pleads as she slightly shifts in front of Snow to stop her from slugging Zelena.

Which, in all fairness, Zelena deserves. Even if she is intentionally antagonizing Snow.

"Tell me the whole trying to be redeemed thing isn't quite this superior all the time?"

"Have you started on the whole trying to be redeemed thing?" Snow shoots back. "Because from where I stand, all I see is a complete psychopath who contributes nothing of use."

"This isn't helping," David states.

"It's not," Regina confirms, putting out a hand to try to calm both of them. It's a sign of how different she is from who she's been that she's trying this peacekeeping at all – something her younger self might have attempted – instead of using magic to silence the both of them.

Zelena rolls her eyes at all of them. "I imagine I'm further along that path than you are." She smiles rather cheerfully in response to Snow's angry snort. "After all, I might be a complete psychopath, but at least I'm honest and I don't think that wearing atrocious fruit on my sweater is a good idea." Her eyes pass over the sweater that Snow has on and though Regina most certainly won't say this aloud (old her would have, she thinks, and maybe that's one point in the Queen's favor), it is fairly appalling. "And since we're on the subject of bad ideas, you know what else I think is a wonderfully bad one?"

"I can't imagine that I care what you think about anything."

"Ripping darkness out of an unborn child and jamming it into another. And as if that wasn't the stupidest plan ever, you thought that you should repeat something like it with Regina."

"Henry," Regina sighs.

"I know what happened," Henry insists. "I don't need to be pushed out of the room again."

"He really should know what hypocrites his grandparents are," Zelena tells her.

"Zelena, please. We can't do this."

"No, Regina, let her talk. Tell me everything, Zelena. Since you have so much to say."

"Oh, so it turns out that you do want to hear what I have to say."

"Desperately. So then I can –"

"Snow," David interrupts, a hand on her forearm. "Maybe this isn't the best time -"

"No, she wants to know and I do hate to let down a princess. I've dealt with my share of self-righteous 'heroines' who think that they're entitled to everything because they call themselves 'good', but you, dear, you take the cake. You think you can just rip the darkness out of people and they'll be all better for having so bloody much sunny in them. Except all you've done is leave them empty."

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"No, she doesn't," Regina says, her tone a warning. Her hand is out and rested on Henry's hand, her fingers in-between his, covering up the light scrapes there (she still hasn't asked about them, and he worries how she'll upset about it - not at him, he think, but rather at herself - she'll be when she finally does).

"Don't I? You ripped something out of your unborn babe that you had no understanding of because you've spent so much of your life rejecting it and then what did Emma do? She spent years trying to figure out what she was missing. She filled that hole back in with darkness plenty well for herself, I'd say. And Regina? Well, you yanked the Queen out of her without any—"

"That's enough," Regina snaps.

"No! It's the truth, and deep down, Regina, you know it. They took something from you. Something that was part of you."

"I made the choice. _Me_. I wanted her gone."

"You made a mistake."

"Why?" Henry asks, his head cocked. "Why was it a mistake?"

Regina shakes her head, but it's the door opening which stops Zelena from speaking.

"This doesn't look happy," Emma notes. "What's going on?"

"We were just having a friendly discussion," Regina states, pointedly ignoring Zelena's derisive snort. "Why are you here so soon? I thought you were getting your pirate settled in?"

"He's settled," Emma says shortly.

"Everything all right?" David queries.

"Yeah, fine. What kind of friendly discussion were we having?"

"Nothing that matters," Snow assures her. "And we have bigger issues to discuss, anyway."

"Yes, we can't possibly talk about why we're in the situation that we're in," Zelena grumbles.

"I made a choice," Regina says once again. "And we're all going to have to live with it."

"Or die with it," Zelena says and then, rocking her baby against her, makes her way back into the living room. Leaving all of the others to stare at each other, the anxiety building quickly.

"What is going on here?" Emma asks, watching Zelena for a moment and then turning back.

"My sister is a bit frustrated by…things. We all are. And we need a plan. And also a list."

"Of who she'll go after?" Henry asks.

She looks over at her son. "You won't go upstairs?"

"I know who you are," he says. "You're my mom."

She smiles at him with such affection and then looks right at Emma, her expression growing somber. "Yes. And everyone in this house – except Henry – should probably be on that list."

"You still have issues with all of us?" Snow asks, almost sounding hurt.

"It's not that… the things that she might hold against you aren't necessarily ones I would."

"Such as?" David prompts.

"Taking the Queen away from Regina," Emma answers, meeting Regina's eyes.

Regina acknowledges Emma's words with an incline of her head, her shoulders slightly slumped in resignation. "The Queen was the exacting and uncompromising part of me. She's very likely to hold Robin's death against some of you—" she looks towards the room where Zelena is and then back over to Emma, looking so very ashamed. "Even though I don't. And Snow…."

"It was my idea to give you the serum in the first place," Snow acknowledges.

"Yes. Which was again my choice, but…all she knows is that she's lost something."

"And she wants to make us pay," Snow concludes, earning her a nod from Regina.

"What does she have against me?" David queries.

"Your ability to be happy in spite of everything that has happened. That she – that I did to you."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry," she tells them. "If I had known… if I had thought that any of this could happen. I was… I was trying to ensure that she couldn't hurt anyone and all that's happened is…"

"We're in this together," Snow insists. "We're not going to abandon you."

"I'm not worried about me. I'm not the one at risk. Not yet, anyway."

"You think when she's done with everyone else, she'll come after you," Emma sums up.

"I always did believe in scorched earth," Regina reminds them.

"Well, I'm not dying because you don't know how to control your other half," Zelena states as she re-enters the room. "Which means we need to find a way to put her out of commission."

"As much as I'm loathe to ever agree with Zelena," Snow starts.

"She agrees with me! Apparently there is a stray working noodle in there."

Snow throws her a dirty look, then says, "We can start with the fairy dust, but I'm guessing that she's got about twice your amount of dark magic because she has nothing holding her back."

"I would expect so," Regina concurs. "Which means that there's not a cell in this world which will hold her for very long. The only one that would is back in the Enchanted Forest and—"

She pulls up short, remembering a plan from years ago which had included locking her away in it. Remembering a time when she'd considered murdering all of these people in cold blood.

"Regina?" Snow pushes.

"I need air."

"Mom?"

She shakes her head, tries to force a smile, fails and then quickly steps outside.

"I know you want to help her, but I think this one falls to me, Kid," Emma tells him when she sees him jerk towards the door like he intends to go after his mom. To the others, she says, "Get Blue's glittery ass over here first thing in the morning. I know she and Regina hate each other, but she knows magic; she might be able to help us with figuring why the Queen didn't die even though her heart was crushed. With Gold gone, we need all the help that we can get."

"On it," David says and then pulls out his cell phones and heads into the other room.

"What about Jeckyll?" Henry asks.

"You still have a way to contact him?" she queries, referring to her son's brief relationship with the doctor in regards to his science classes; after Hyde's death, the jittery doctor had gone into semi-seclusion. Off Henry's nod, she says, "Then get him here. If Blue doesn't have the answers, maybe he will." To Zelena and Snow, Emma says, already sounding exasperated, "You two try to behave without a chaperone, please."

"Like you could chaperone me, Savior." She smiles, then, reminding everyone in the room of the unresolved issues that still exist between them.

Things like the death of a former lover, things like betrayals which had almost led to the death of another and things like watching as Zelena had tried to destroy a woman Emma very much cares for. Things like attempted murder and a rapidly accelerated pregnancy.

It's all supposed to be water under the bridge and for Regina, it has been. But…well.

Emma holds her gaze for a moment longer and then shakes her head; she squeezes Henry's shoulder reassuringly, and says, "It's going to be okay." And then turns and follows after Regina.

The last thing she hears before the door closes is Zelena saying, "Somehow, I doubt that."

* * *

Regina is fully expecting the blonde sheriff to follow her outside, and so when Emma does step out onto the porch, what she gets from Regina isn't any kind of irritation at the intrusion, but rather a very small smile.

"Am I that predictable?" Emma queries, coming up beside Regina. The twice-stepped down but now again Mayor is leaning lightly against one of the support pillars, a cup of coffee which she must have used magic to either create or somehow called to her is resting between her palms.

"Even as I am now, I know you pretty well, Emma."

"As you are now," Emma repeats. "And what is that exactly?"

"I don't know. I don't. Sometimes I feel like myself, but sometimes I feel like I'm a child again and I am desperately trying to find a way to claw my way up a smooth wall made out of clay."

"That's quite the visual."

Regina laughs. "In the beginning of my training with Rumple, he had me imagining how I would get out of situations using just my magic. In the beginning, you just think what everyone else thinks that we do. You think 'poof' and a place, and then you're where you want to be—" she grins lazily at Emma. "I imagine you're about to tell me that that's exactly what you do, isn't it?"

Emma gives her a sheepish smile in return. "Refined magic has never been my thing."

"No," Regina agrees with more than a hint of affection (Emma feels her stomach flutter and tries to push the thought away because now is neither the time or place for such and she's not entirely sure that there is such a thing, but she knows that any kind of feeling between the two of them in the middle of all of this – and with Hook as upset as he is – can only be a bad thing).

"Sorry," Emma shrugs, then flicks her fingers and a similar cup of coffee appears in her hands.

"Don't be. For you, Emma, it works." Her mood grows almost instantly darker, then, and Emma finds her smile shifting to a worried frown. "But I spent a very long time afraid of the pictures in my head because the older I got, the more violent and terrible they got. During the early days of my… marriage to the King, I had these visions… these thoughts of hurting people. Like Snow."

"But you didn't hurt anyone."

"Not then. All of that came later. But in the beginning, I was horrified by what I was…thinking."

"Intrusive thoughts?"

"What?"

"I take it you haven't done a lot of reading on the psychology of this world?" Emma asks.

"Never seemed overly relevant. How could the psychology of a place so very different from the world I was born and raised in apply to me? How could they possibly understand me?"

"Because psychology is psychology and while the circumstances and events which occurred there might have been drastically different from ones that could happen in this current world – as well as the possibilities of what might happen next – the things that are universal just… are."

"And how do you know all this? You're a doer, Emma; I know that you read your fair share of true crime and mystery novels, but I have never picked you for staying up on medical journals."

"Psychology isn't quite like reading a write-up on stem cell therapy or whatever they're on about these days; it can actually be kind of interesting in the right format. And for what it's worth, I know you read romance and history books, but you also know almost everything there is to know about all of the sports of this world," Emma reminds her between sips of coffee.

Regina chuckles. "I suppose that in my world, I would have been considered an athlete."

"Exactly. But the short answer is, after one of my foster homes, I was sent to counseling and I actually got someone who tried to help me. Enough that I told them about some of my anger and some of the things I thought about doing. I thought something was wrong with me, but he told me it was just intrusive thoughts and everyone has them. We're supposed to be afraid of them because they don't represent who we really are or what we would really want to do."

"Until they do. I had those thoughts and I was horrified, but then one day, Emma, I wasn't."

"Life changed for you. You created her."

"I suppose I did," Regina agrees. "I'd always thought that one day, she was just there and I figured that the magic and my tutelage with Rumple helped bring her about, but that's not the truth, is it? She's there… she was created because I needed someone to do what I couldn't."

"She was created because you needed someone to protect you from those hurting you."

Regina shifts anxiously at that, her hands curling into fists at her side. "I'm not weak."

Emma considers moving towards her, but there are nervous warnings signs in Regina's body language which keep her from doing it. "Wanting not to be hurt is not weak, Regina."

"But hurting others is."

"I think when you're in the middle of a nightmare, maybe all you can see are –"

"The walls," Regina finishes. "Which brings us back to my original point. I spent a lot of time trying not to see the pictures in my head, but then Rumple told me that the only way I could use my magic because I was so resistant to… everything about what it could do, was to see it. I would close my eyes and he would have me in a hole in the ground with walls made of clay and every time I tried to climb them, I would slip up because they were so smooth. He told me I had to see the inside of my castle. Where I could be powerful. I had to feel the power and that nothing could trap me. I had to feel the anger at the walls holding me in. And I did and there were ridges and I could climb out and only when I looked down did I notice that I yanked trees through the clay and destroyed their roots so that I could get out of the hole that I was in."

"It must drive you insane that I'm able to just think 'Regina's house' and be there."

"On the contrary, considering all that you have been through Emma – so very much of it my fault – I'm happy for any… ugliness that you don't have." She smiles somewhat sadly at that.

"What made you take off from inside?"

"The idea of locking the Queen away in a cage," Regina confesses. "I thought your parents were going to do that to me after…everything that happened with my mother. Dying by electrocution would have been better than being locked away in Rumple's cell. Wasting away every day until I was nothing."

"That didn't happen."

"No."

"But I'm sorry about what I did. Why didn't you ever tell me that Hook left you there."

"Because it was between him and I. It still is. I did what I did and he did what he did."

"I'm not sure I know what that means, but…okay," Emma agrees. Then, softly, "Hey. You know that I'm not ever going to abandon you, right? Whatever happens here or whatever happens next for all of us, Regina – I need you to know I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

Regina takes a sip from her coffee, and then counters with, "What happened with Hook? And before you say that it's just between the two of you, I think that we both know that it isn't."

It's a strange thing, Emma thinks, that she's not even thrown off by the seemingly random jump in the conversation. But then, it's probably not so random because what had happened during her time as the Dark One and then afterwards had undercut her pledges of loyalty. She'd put everything on the line for Hook and even she knows that. It'd been worth it, she'd told herself.

True Love is worth any price, right?

But is it?

And what if it's not actually True Love?

What if it's just a story which is already speeding its way towards its very last page?

Then what does it all mean?

Emma sighs. "Any chance I can say 'pass' and you'll just let me get away with it for the night?"

"No," Regina tells her. "You were supposed to take him… home. And you clearly did not. Why?"

"We argued."

"About me. And what the Queen told him. About…"

"Yeah."

"Emma—"

"Do me a favor, okay? If you're about to deny what she said or argue that it doesn't mean anything, don't. Please? I get it, maybe it's true and -" she pauses for a beat, looking for something of an out for them - "...and maybe it isn't and I know it kind of makes things a bit awkward between the two of us—"

"And wrong," Regina notes, noticeably neither denying or admitting but someone shifting the subject.

Emma thinks she could - maybe even should - protest and try to get to the bottom of the Queen's words, but the truth is, she's not ready for the broken down honesty of such words; it's one thing to hint around and suggest there are vague feelings, but really those could be anything. And it's so much safer there.

Still, the word "wrong" demands a follow up.

"Wrong?" Emma tilts her head, her brow furrowing. Then, taking just a small deeper into the water. "Because we're both...women?"

Regina lifts an eyebrow, aware that Emma had moved them into the undeniably romantic territory (without actually admitting to that being what she had done; it remains all so vague and hypothetical). "Need I remind you what I did with that...woman in the alley?"

"No," Emma says softly, seeing the guilt in Regina's turbulent eyes. "And I'm sorry for reminding you."

"Don't be. I made my own bad choice there, and because of that, there's yet another body."

"She made her choices, too."

"Should she have died for loathing me enough to want to humiliate me?"

"No, but I would have liked to have knocked her teeth in for it."

Regina smiles slightly at the vehement affection of Emma's words, even through the queasiness she feels in her stomach at the thought of the dead woman.

"In any case," she finally manages, "That's not why it would be wrong. Robin and Hook are."

"Because you loved Robin."

"Very much so. And you love Hook."

"Yes," Emma says, feeling like they should be going somewhere else with this conversation, but recognizing Regina's lack of desire to go there.

Recognizing her fear in going there.

It's a shared fear, Emma acknowledges, and has no idea what that means for them.

"Then tell me what happened with you and Hook tonight," Regina prompts, pulling Emma's eyes back to her. "Why did you argue over me? Surely you told him that your feelings are for him and him alone. I would assume that that would be more than enough for him and significant ego."

"You would assume wrong. He believes that I prioritize you."

Regina laughs almost shrilly at that. "After you followed him down to the Underworld?"

"More and more, I'm beginning to think he wishes that I hadn't. He was ready to move on and got sent back here again and… I'm not entirely sure that even now, he really wants to be here."

"Oh." She starts to say something else, and then stops, frowning a bit.

"You were about to say the Queen can take care of that for him?"

"Sorry," Regina admits almost sadly. "First thought that came into my head. Like I said before, I am realizing that I am the one who created her using those… intrusive thoughts as a road-map."

"I threatened him that I was going to kick him in the balls," Emma admits with a short laugh.

"Did you?"

"Yeah. When he started yelling at me about how it was all my fault." She echoes Regina's smile for a moment before it falls away. "But the thing is, he's right, you know? He's so angry that I turned him into the Dark One because he couldn't handle the temptation and he did really terrible things I knew deep down that he couldn't handle it, but I was so scared of being alone and I had this man who wanted me so much and… what if I never had that again. I love him."

"He made his own choices. Just as you did. Just as I did. And I'm now having to own those. He might have been put in a terrible situation, but just as you were able to understand what you were doing, so was he. I don't agree with much of what you did, but at least you were fighting back; he chose to give in without one." Emma starts to protest but Regina silences her with a quick shake of her head. "Don't get me wrong, Emma: what you did to him… it's not something that I'm sure I could forgive if you did to me, but I am also not sure that there's not a single thing is this world or any other that I wouldn't forgive you for."

Emma looks down and away for a moment, overwhelmed by her words. Finally, so very quietly, "Forgiveness is kind of weird, isn't it? I have spent so much of my life trying to figure out when you are supposed to forgive and when you're not and… I just don't know. Everyone was so quick to tell me after I got rid of the darkness that I did what I did for love. Henry forgave me for breaking his heart. My parents forgave me. And you forgave me for almost getting you killed."

"I still don't know why you did that. What was your plan there? Did you think I'd find a way?"

"I knew you would. I know that's a shit answer, but I knew you'd find a way to survive. You made it through torture and the diamond in the mines and your sister and… I knew you'd make it. But I thought that I also needed you angry at me and not trusting me enough to come close."

"You succeeded."

"I know, and I'm sorry."

"We all pay our prices in different ways, Emma. But If you think the price that you owe is for you not to be happy… that's not a price that I want you to pay." She turns towards Emma, then, and puts her coffee cup down on a nearby surface. Then, before Emma can ever think to ask or wonder what she's doing, Regina is putting out both hands and clutching hers. "Even knowing that this mission would end the way that it did – even knowing that I would lose what I did – I would still have followed you down. Because you believed in me. Others have come to that place but you and Henry, you were willing to extend me faith before I'd even begun to earn it."

"Regina –"

"I won't ever forget that."

Emma lets out a breath, her eyes suddenly wet with tears.

She has to swallow several times before she says, "We should probably all try to get some sleep; it's almost midnight and it's been a really long day."

A door behind them opens, then, and for a moment, everything freezes. Someone is coming through it, and there's suddenly an anxious energy, but neither of them are entirely aware of it because Regina is still clutching Emma's hands and they're both just looking at each other.

It's David's touch on both of their shoulders which causes them to come back to reality.

"Sorry to interrupt," David says, and there's something curious and thoughtful in his wide blue eyes, "But we have ourselves a big problem. Turns out the Queen didn't take tonight off like you thought she would." The words are offered gently and without any sign of accusation.

"Hook?" Emma asks, dread and guilt creeping into her belly; she can still feel Regina's hands on hers and thinks that she should probably pull away from her considering, but she hasn't yet.

"No, the fairies. They're under attack," David replies, his eyes flickering down to their hands.

"Fuck," Regina growls out, and then she's the one pulling away from the connection, her hands on her hips as she paces. If Emma had felt dread and guilt just a moment ago, it's nothing compared to the self-loathing in Regina's voice as she runs through her mental list of those she has always hated the most and comes right to them. "So much for getting some sleep," she says to Emma. And then to everyone else, "This is my fault; I should have seen this coming."

"We'll worry about who's to blame later," Emma says as the door opens again and a newly armed with a crossbow Snow is stepping outside to join them. "We need to get there now."

"Your sister will stay behind to protect Henry and the babies," Snow tells them, her voice a bit rough like she's forcing herself to put her trust in someone whom she absolutely does not trust.

But there really isn't a choice right now.

"Fine," Regina says tightly and then she's nodding to Emma and in the same moment, both women reach out, take the hand of the person next to them (Regina grabs Snow's hand, Emma grabs David's) and then there's a swirl of purple and gray smoke as they all teleport together.

And into the middle of a war-zone where a furious Evil Queen is standing, broken cement and plaster everywhere, the sounds of screaming and sirens echoing all around her.

Her eyes swimming with violent purple energy and dancing rage.

Her spread-out hands full of explosively bright red and orange fire.

Her high-heeled feet crushing down on broken wings of multiple colors.

The Queen grins over at Regina and says with a tone full of something that seems almost like a hysterical kind of bloodlust, "For all the wishes that didn't come true because we weren't good enough. Because we were bad. Now, I'm going to show them what being bad really means."

 **TBC**


	5. Five

**A/N:** Apologies for the delays - SDCC took up a lot of time and attention.

 **Warnings** : Language, violence, murder and destruction, self loathing, discussion about the King and if you're sensitive to it, there are mentions of Hook and Robin.

* * *

There's a moment of paralyzed shock – a moment where nothing happens because all she can see in front of her is bloody death and violent destruction. Knowing that she has an obligation to do something about this, Regina finally jerks herself forward, slowed down only by the feel of Emma's hand settling on her elbow. Before she stops, though, she hears the chilling crunch of something beneath her boot. She dares not look down, the fear of what she might see under her shoe too much to push back and ignore. Her mind whirls and spins and somewhat selfishly, Regina finds herself wondering where this nightmare will leave her in the eyes of the town.

She abhors the fairies, and in turn, they have always loathed her just as equally. As the Queen, she'd hunted many of them down and had them all tortured in terrible ways before she'd had them killed. She'd held a special hatred for Blue and though she had never been able to get her hands on the sanctimonious, hypocritical, winged twit, each death had been a message to her.

You should have helped me when you had the chance.

That had been so many years ago, though, and over the last several ones, she and Blue have come to a place of seething tolerance with each other. Sure, that's been tested by the fact that Blue has, on more than one occasion, mentioned that she believes Regina should be put on trial for her crimes (and convicted, of course) but for the most part, they have co-existed.

This carnage will certainly test that.

While some (the Charmings) will be quick to point out that the Queen is the one responsible for this massacre, Blue has always been insistent that all of Regina is entirely corrupt; she has been insistent that the youngest daughter of Cora Mills has been a lost cause since day one.

"Regina," she hears, Emma's hushed but rushed voice pulling her from her rapidly darkening thoughts, the smoky tendrils of them starting to stretch out like shadowy fingers. "We need to do something fast; your other half doesn't seem to give a damn that we're here right now."

"Yes, she does," Regina replies. "This is as much of a gift to me as… the previous murder was. And the attempt on Hook's life. She's settling grudges that I wouldn't have allowed her to."

"Regina, we can't let the fairies die," Snow insists, sounding close to panicked for a moment.

"I didn't say we would," Regina answers tersely, her voice quiet as she tries not to think about what she'd heard cracking beneath her boot. As she looks forward and takes in the Queen's furious form, the purple swirling like smoky madness in her eyes, she wonders how many of the fairies have already been lost to this decades old rage of… theirs. There are so damned many broken wings all around them, but that doesn't mean they're dead; one of her favorite torture techniques had been to rip wings off and then burn them in front of the captured fairies' eyes.

Which might account for why there's so much fire all around them.

"David, do you still have the dust?" Emma asks him, watching as the Queen sends another blast of bright red fire towards what looks like some kind of hastily erected protective energy shield.

"I do."

"But she knows that trick," Snow reminds her. "The last time we tried it, she saw it."

"She did," Regina allows. "I did. So this time, we need to make sure she doesn't see it."

"You have a plan?" Emma queries, ducking her head down low, a stray hand reaching out to rest almost absently against Regina's back. Not noticing the curious gaze from Regina, instead Emma's eyes catch on a flash of purple on the ground. And then a smear of bright red running across it. When she finally meets Regina's eyes, she sees the unmistakable sorrow there.

"Something like that," Regina murmurs before Emma can offer her up any kind of reassurance; it's the last thing she wants right now. "But everyone has to stick to the plan or she'll know."

"Tell us," David urges. "And let's end this."

* * *

"Regina!" Emma calls out, standing tall amongst the rubble; smoke fills her lungs and she has to fight to keep her vision from swimming, but this is more important. She looks to her side, over to where the other Regina – the better half of the woman who had once been the Evil Queen – is standing. Regina's hands are clenched, ringed slightly in a light pink energy. It's the darkest she can get without it becoming problematic for her, but if all of this works, that will be enough.

The Queen turns around, her face brightening in a deeply unsettling way as she sees Emma and Regina standing there together. Lifting an eyebrow up, she imperiously declares, "It is still Your Majesty, Street Rat; I do believe we have had this conversation before. Perhaps you need some incentive to help you recall the proper way to address me. I wouldn't be opposed to that."

"Was that a come-on or a threat?" Emma asks beneath her breath.

"Both," Regina admits with a weary sounding sigh.

Emma lets out a slight chuckle but then replies to the Queen with as cocky of a grin as she can manage and a shouted out, "You already know that I bow to no one. But especially not you."

"I didn't say anything about bowing, dear Savior; I do believe you came up with that twist all on your own. But we can get to the fun part of the night later, I think. For now, so much to do. I've been wanting to throw myself a Fairy roasting party for such a long time and now… now, I am." She punctuates these words with a low deep laugh which seems to stretch on indefinitely.

"The party is over," Regina announces, her agitation clear. "You're going to stand down. Now."

"I don't take orders from you anymore," the Queen laughs, holding up her hands to show off the magic that is almost literally dancing from each of her fingertips. "You lost the ability to control me when you kicked me out of the _house_. Now, I'm free. And I'm rather enjoying it."

"Too bad," Regina replies softly. "This isn't what I want –"

The words are barely out of her mouth before the Queen reacts with a low growl and a thrust of her hands. Violent magic leaps from her fingers and before Emma can even think to react, it slams forcefully right into the middle of Regina's chest. Emma shouts in protest, her blue-green eyes wide and startled. Instinct takes over, and perhaps it's only that which keeps Regina from crumbling to her knees; Emma reaches out and grabs her, her arms circling Regina.

"Dammit, Regina; this better not have been your plan," Emma hisses at her.

"Sorry," Regina confesses, wincing even as she tries to pull air into her wounded lungs.

Emma is about to rail at her – even as she's using her body and her magic to protect Regina from additional blasts of magic from the now blinded-by-fury Queen (who is yelling out that it doesn't matter what Regina wants anymore and what she has wanted has always been weak and pathetic and maybe it's time to recognize that the only reason she is alive at all is because the Queen had seen fit to protect her) – when she notices movement just behind them.

"I promised a distraction," Regina reminds her, her voice like a pained wheezing. Her eyes flicker up and just behind the Queen, and she allows herself the smallest of smiles as she sees David and Snow streak into the convent, their mission to get the rest of the fairies to safety.

"When we get home, we're going to argue about this," Emma tells her, flicking her hand up suddenly to put up a shield against a particularly hot blast of red, hot energy from the Queen.

"Home?" Regina counters.

"Your house."

"Right. She's changing hands."

"How is that—" her words are cut off by a sharp stinging pain in her shoulder as the energy shifts from right to left and cuts through the very edge of her shield. "Motherfucker."

Regina chuckles at that, but because of the way she's holding her ribs, it comes out more like a low throaty groan. Still, even in pain, it's clear that she's at least somewhat amused by this.

"Right, got it," Emma mutters, and then because she's just completely done with being ranted at and having magic flung at her, she snaps her wrist and sends a blast back to the Queen.

Who suddenly stops firing, her head tilting. "Oh, so the little girl has some bite"

"You know that I do," Emma tells her.

"Mm, well, I think we'd hoped you'd bite in other ways."

Emma hears the groan of annoyance from Regina at that, and maybe if they weren't in the middle of an actual warzone, maybe if there weren't broken wings all around them, she might find this all a bit amusing. Because then it'd almost be like an older sister going out of her way to horrify her younger sibling. But Regina already has an older sister, and it's not the Queen, and what the Queen wants to do isn't just embarrass Regina – it's to utterly destroy her.

Which Emma will never allow.

"Sorry, not interested," Emma retorts and then reaches out and sends another blast back at her; the Queen bats it away with ease, but it's clear that Emma has earned her attention.

Which, all right, so maybe it wasn't a terrible plan. Even if Regina being hurt is something she's not at all okay with. And by the way she continues to wheeze, it's more than a little bit wounded. Broken ribs, Emma thinks grimly, and yeah, they're definitely going to talk about the stupid risks that Regina – even not quite who she used to be – continues to take.

At the house. Regina's house.

Not home, Emma reminds herself.

Because her home is the little blue and white house which she shares with Killian and—

"Focus, Swan," Regina hisses at her; one look ahead and she sees her magic is veering.

She grimaces, and doesn't bother to apologize, just keeps on firing the energy blasts.

It goes like this for several minutes – long enough that Emma shifts into some kind of automatic mode; it's like her magic has taken over completely and is now dueling the Queen's magic all of its own accord. There's just surge after surge of energy and it seems like nothing is happening.

That's not the case, though, because there's still movement behind the Queen and every now and again she catches a flash of blonde or the movement of her mother's grey coat, and she hears Regina still wheezing and knows that exactly what they had intended to be happening here… is happening: her parents are getting the fairies to safety. Even if her mind is barely checked into anything besides the back and forth tossing of their magic, it's still working.

Until someone trips.

That's how this part of the plan breaks apart.

One moment, Emma has one of her hands rested on Regina's back and the other hand is held out in front of her, white magic surging from it and then the next moment, there's a loud cry of pain and both she and the Queen are turning at the same time to see an off-yellow-colored fairy sprawled out on the step, David bent over her to try to get her back to her feet. He looks up at the many eyes that have suddenly swept towards him, unmistakable fear showing.

The Queen's head tilts for a moment as she tries to take everything in – as she tries to understand exactly what is happening. The expressions on her face change rapidly, going from confusion to fascination to anger and then to bemusement. It'd be easy to get lost in watching all of this happen, but then Emma feels a hand grab at her wrist, fingers circling around it and when she looks down, she sees Regina nodding at her. Urging her to attack the Queen again.

Attack while the Queen is preoccupied.

But Emma stalls for just the briefest of moments, aware of the sizzling heat within her fingers, aware that her magic is dangerous enough that should the Queen be caught completely unaware, the blast could kill her. And while Regina might favor that outcome (Emma suspects that she doesn't want that nearly as much as she might think she does), well, it's… complicated.

Hurting – or killing – any part of Regina always will be something that Emma struggles with.

So she hesitates, and Regina squeezes harder, but it's too late and the Queen is snarling.

For a moment, this darkly-beautiful, evil twin of Regina's is as feral as a predator can get.

And about as dangerous.

"A game," she announces. "I suppose I should have realized; you were just a distraction." It's meant to be something of an insult, but the Queen almost looks impressed by the deception.

"A distraction which worked," Emma shoots back, her hands glowing again.

"I think our sweet Regina would disagree, wouldn't you, dear? How are the ribs?"

"They'll heal," Regina replies with a pained grin. "You won't." And then she's jutting her hand up and she's pushing her own magic right at the Queen. Her magic is white and almost sparkly and there's a brief almost comical moment when Emma could swear that both versions of Regina sneer at that because well, sparkly just isn't either of their things, but then the Queen is batting it away with a harsh bemused laugh and suddenly no one is thinking about the color of anything, because the Queen is no longer playing. No, the Queen is on the move, and they're just thinking about the rage swirling once again in her absurdly dark eyes, her fury so vibrant.

"You dare attack me with that?" she snarls and then she's stalking quickly towards her other half, slowed only by Emma shoving herself in the way in order to try to protect Regina. "Away!"

It's a funny thing to feel yourself flying through the air. Not so funny when you hit the ground with a loud crunch, your arm briefly folding beneath your body. Emma hisses as the cement scrapes against her face. She rolls to her side and probes at her arm and oh, it's not broken.

Her eyes snap over, back towards where Regina and the Queen are.

She's not one bit surprised to see that the Queen has Regina lifted up into the air by her throat.

Not a tiny bit surprised when she sees the Queen thrust out a hand to stop David from continuing to get the fairies to safety, magic swirling around his feet and holding him still.

She's not the least bit surprised because well… this had kind of been the plan.

Not the part where Regina had gotten beat to hell, but… some of this.

Which is why she turns her head to the left the moment the Queen returns her attention back to Regina, and then she's watching as her mother emerges from behind a half-broken column.

She nods her head and then Snow is throwing glittery dust into the air; it catches the breeze and then sweeps towards whatever magic it can find. In this case, that's the Queen. She howls as she feels the stickiness of it, and then her hands are clawing at her other half, like she plans to use Regina to stop herself from being trapped by this fairy dust. Emma sees the bright red lines appear on Regina's throat and that's all it takes to push her into motion; she surges forward and slams forcefully into the Queen, knocking her away from Regina and holding her down.

"Sorry," she mutters, though she's not exactly sure why she's apologizing to this woman.

Okay, maybe she does know. A little bit. Because a little bit of this woman is her Regina.

Except Regina isn't hers.

She needs sleep, she decides. Badly and quickly because her mind is suddenly straying on her.

"Always knew you wanted me tied up, Swan," the Queen hisses at her, flailing her arms in a way that seems decidedly wrong for a woman who is usually so deeply in control. But then, she's also always known that restraint is one of those things which Regina can ill tolerate.

She has a feeling that it's one of those trigger points which both Regina and the Queen share.

"What can I say?" Emma drawls as she pushes herself back up to her feet, all the while looking down at the still furiously struggling Queen – the insanely powerful Queen who had been felled by a simple slight of hand and a bit of fairy dust. "I enjoy some kink from time to time as well."

"Not the time, Miss Swan," Regina says from behind her. "This is the end of the line for you," she tells her other half. "You're going into the mines and you're going to stay there until we can figure a way to get rid of you once and for all. I told you I didn't need your help and I meant it."

"And you're still wrong. Look at yourself. Bleeding and broken. You make peace with those who would see you dead; do you really think the insipid fairies will believe you when you tell them that it was your evil twin who killed half of them. Especially since you're not sorry that I did it."

Regina just shakes her head and then turns and walks away from her.

"You need me," the Queen growls at her back. "You can deny it all that you want, Regina, but you know I'm right. Everyone thinks that I took all the anger and hatred and rage with me, but you know that's not the truth. It's still in you. It's always been in you. Because our mother bred it into us. But before, at least you had me to help you deal with it. Now, you don't. Now, your magic is weak and pathetic. It's pointless; you don't know how to use white magic and using black magic makes you violently ill because this new heart of yours isn't dark enough to absorb the shock of it. You're powerless, Regina; you can't defend our son or the woman we—"

She's not able to get the rest of the words out before Regina is snapping around and sending a blast of slightly gray magic right at the Queen's head; both women groan in pain at the same time and then just as the Queen's eyes are rolling backwards, Regina's knees are giving out.

Emma moves without thinking, her body lurching forward and almost stumbling over broken cement and rock as she rushes to catch Regina before the older woman can hit the ground; the only thing that stops her is a shake of the head from Regina as Regina hits the ground with a grunt. It's an unmistakable request from Regina - a plea to let her fall without being viewed as having fallen. Reluctantly, Emma pulls up short, but she stays close enough to help if needed.

Regina's eyes lift after a few moments, tears streaking down her cheeks as she looks at Emma and insists, her voice trembling fiercely, "She can't be right about me, Emma. She can't be."

"She isn't," Emma assures her, her eyes scanning around what still looks like a warzone; a weight settles deep in her chest and she knows that even though this is over and the Queen has been contained, the shockwaves of what has happened here will be felt for a time to come.

There's the sound of gravel moving and crunching and then Regina is standing up beside her, a hand running across her face roughly (a smear of blood from her nose goes with it, and Emma thinks that they've got to find a way to deal with Regina's inability to use the kind of magic that she has been using naturally for most of her adult life) before dropping the hand to settle over her broken ribs. She says then, softly, "Unless your plan is to let them kill the Queen, we should get out of here and get her down to the mines. I know Blue and I know what she'll ask for."

"What?" Emma queries, turning her head to look at Regina.

"Execution."

"No," Emma says immediately. "That's not going to happen."

Regina cocks her head, a strange curiosity painted across her features. "You want her to live?"

"I want my town to not be one that has such a thing as corporal punishment." It's mostly the truth, but there's far more to it – far more about the messiness involving two sides of the same.

"We won't be able to hold her forever," Regina notes, looking down at the Queen, a strange and fairly unreadable glint – almost a wistfulness – in Regina's eyes. "She'll get free eventually, and when she does, we'll all pay. She always… she always remembers and gets her vengeance."

"Yeah, well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Emma sighs. "For now, I want my bed."

"Of course," Regina replies, and Emma thinks that she almost sounds hurt and maybe even upset. Which might make sense considering some of the revelations of the day, but…

"Regina—"

"I need sleep, too," the older woman confirms as she glances down at her other half once again. "I'll need your help with enough magic to transport her to the mines. My own magic is… questionable at best right now, and I'm not entirely sure what qualifies as what." She tries to force enough of a smile to make it seem like this is no big deal, but even not entirely herself, Emma thinks that she knows Regina pretty damn well and she can see the fear that's there.

It's a conversation which they need to have, but she knows that won't happen tonight.

So she nods her head and murmurs, "Of course." And then, because Blue and several of the other fairies are rushing towards them, flanked by a frantic Snow and David, she moves slightly closer to Regina, allowing their shoulders to meet. Like she knows that this is going to get ugly.

"I suppose you have some use," Blue snaps at Regina as she comes closer. From just inches away now, Emma can see blood in the fairies' hairline and a long cut down her right cheek.

"Don't touch her," Regina replies, stepping away from Emma and then in front of the downed Queen. "We're going to take her to the mines and then we'll figure out what to do then."

"No, we're going to—"

"You're not," Emma says. "No one is dying tonight."

"People have already died! My people!"

"Blue," Snow soothes.

"No! No, you don't get to play nice, Snow White. Your insipid refusal to understand the true nature of this beast of a woman has led to this moment. Innocent fairies dead because of her."

"I am not a beast," Regina answers, her jaw clenched tight, her hands for a moment glowing and her stomach rolling as rage builds in her. A hand settles immediately on her wrist and she looks over to see Emma's worried eyes; she takes a deep breath and wills herself back to calm.

"And yet even now, you fight against the worst of yourself. Even with her supposedly out of you. The truth is, split down the middle, both sides of you are evil. There is no good in you, Regina; there never was. Your rage, your anger, your evil is why my people are dead."

"Your people are dead because you are a sanctimonious power hungry bitch who tried to play games with so many lives. You could have helped me when I asked for it, but you chose not to."

"You were beyond help. You have always been beyond help and you always will be."

"No," Emma insists, feeling like she has to say something here to stop this conversation from going to a place of no return; another brief look to her side and she can see that Regina is once again almost vibrating with emotion. But this is not all just rage and hatred she sees there. No, there's a whole lot of sadness and desperation clear to see as well – the remnants of a young girl who'd never believed herself worthy of anything and is now having that confirmed for her.

"Stay out of this, Sheriff," Blue snarls. "Your entire family is full of nothing but fools, and you're the worst of them. You should have protected this town and instead, you partnered with her."

"What do you want from me?" Regina demands, her eyes wet.

"You to pay."

"Enough of this; we can't come apart like this," Snow insists, moving forward. At the last moment, though, David grabs her hand and pulls her back to him, his eyes on the slight blue shimmer that's now encircling Blue's form. It's so easy to forget that this woman is one of the oldest powers to have ever existed, but as he watches the anger roll off of the fairy in waves, he has the distinct feeling that they're being reminded of just how powerful she can truly be.

"You want us to come together, Snow?" Blue shoots back. "Then do your duty to your people for once in your life. You're the Queen that they want, not this…" she sniffs. "Do your duty and end this. Avenge your father – their king and be done with all of this redemption silliness."

"End this?" Emma repeats, her mind sticking hard on those two words.

"She means kill me," Regina explains, her body suddenly tightening and her shoulders going rigid. "Actually, I'm sure she means for you to kill both me and my other half, isn't that true?"

"We'd all have peace if you were gone. All of you. Instead, we are all at risk of losing ourselves and our destinies because of her. You especially, Savior. But I think you already know that."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty much done with giving a shit about what anyone thinks is or isn't my destiny. I guess we'll have to find a different way to peace," Emma snaps back. "Because if you or anyone comes after Regina – either Regina – they will have to go through me to get there."

She tries to ignore the surprise that blooms on Regina's face – the utter bewilderment that's there. Because, she wonders, how after all they've been through could Regina doubt that she would stand beside – and here, even in front of her – should an attack come raging in at her.

How, after everything that has happened between the two of them, could Regina doubt her?

The answer is simple, though: because there had been a time when she had doubted Regina.

And perhaps because Regina believes that maybe all of them should give up on her.

But that's not going to happen today (never again, Emma tells herself vehemently), and as if to stamp down hard on that point, Snow says in a voice that neither stumbles nor stutters and sounds every bit like the princess she had been or perhaps the Queen that she might have been, "And me." She looks over at David and gets an immediate nod in response from him

Blue smiles thinly. "Of course. Because in the end, the Charming family is only about what matters to them. The Evil Queen can murder and destroy with reckless abandon but she belongs to you. And you, Emma, you can be the Dark One and hurt so many people and your boyfriend can nearly sentence everyone to the Underworld, but it's your town so it's okay."

"You're right," Emma agrees. "I've done some shitty things."

"But so have you," Regina puts in. "All the things you know about me, Reul, well, dear…."

Blue laughs. "And there's the Evil Queen. As it turns out, she exists in all parts of you." Blue turns and looks at Snow. "You had a chance to kill her before and lost twenty-eight years with your daughter; you cost the happiness of all of your subjects for this monster. I gave you every opportunity to succeed and be victorious but you let simpering emotion get in the way. Every life that has been lost since you stopped her execution is on you, Snow White. Your faith is indulgence and selfishness, and when you're watching your daughter breathe her last thanks to the woman she is now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with, I want you to remember that you could have stopped this, but you chose to let your pitiful ideal of love win over your duty."

She flashes her hand, then, and there's a bright explosion of light that stretches around all of them. For a moment, it grows hot enough for Emma to wonder if Blue has just set them all aflame, but when it's gone a moment later, all there is left around them is smoke and debris.

All of the carnage has been removed, leaving behind only the remnants of a broken warzone.

Snow lets out a breath. Then looks up at Regina like she wants to say something to her.

Like she needs to.

But this is all too much and Regina isn't even remotely able to try to put the emotions she's feeling together. It's all too much and all she can think about right now is the many times when she's been on her knees trying to be something other than what she actually is. The times when she was praying and pleading and hoping and begging. The times when she just wanted to feel.

This new nightmare of theirs had seemed to start with her on her knees once again.

In a dirty alley.

Trying to forget everything and be someone else.

But there's blood on those walls now and blood on her hands and beneath her boots.

And she is who she is no matter how many times she's cut down the middle.

So she tries to find some control because she can't deal with Snow wanting to make all of this okay when it's really not. She says, "Not now. We need to get the Queen to the mines."

"Yeah," Emma agrees immediately, recognizing how vulnerable and exposed both her mother and Regina are right now – their whole ugly history (and the desperate choices Snow had made in order to never truly abandon her hope and faith) laid out like a breakfast buffet. And then, without even really thinking about what she's doing, she reaches out and grabs Regina's left hand and squeezes it. Regina turns her head to look at her, confused and uncertain, but then Emma is pulling them both down and yeah, they're both on their knees, but Regina supposes that at least she's not alone in this for once. Emma nods at her and then nods at the Queen.

And Regina gets it.

Because they are partners.

"We'll meet you at the mines," Emma says to her parents.

Then, together, the two women move their hands forward and each touch the Queen's still (thankfully; they know that this won't last much longer, but thank the gods that she hadn't woken up during Blue's rant against Regina and Snow) unconscious form. There's a burst of magic once again and this one seems even brighter than the show that Blue had put on. There are colors swirling in the air and then smoke and when it's gone, all three women are as well.

* * *

The Queen is oddly silent once she's back on her feet. She looks like she's in a slight degree of pain (no one dares get close enough to try to heal her) but mostly she's just the embodiment of simmering rage. Her jaw clenched with anger and her eyes blazing with betrayal and hurt, she says nothing as she watches the Charming family act like she's some kind of rabid dog in need of a cure. She watches as they whisper to each other as they stand around Regina, their conversation occurring as Emma tries to heal Regina's ribs.

It's mostly working, but what Regina needs more than anything else is sleep. Rest and quiet.

A chance to recharge and try to get her many conflicting thoughts in some kind of order.

An opportunity to find control and then re-establish it.

Well, so much for that, the Queen smirks. She more than most knows that life never allows you the kind of healing which you so desperately need. It rarely permits the calm that is craved.

Regina knows this, too, but she has to hope for better.

Has to hope that eventually, she can heal and move forward.

The Queen knows better.

And so…she just watches and waits.

* * *

It's an incredibly intimate thing to heal someone using your own life-force to do it. On the basest level, it's simply an exchange of energy from one person to another. You do it enough and you stop thinking about what it means. But this is somehow different. Somehow more.

Because Regina is standing in the middle of the mines and her shirt is rucked up enough to expose the bottom of her bra. That's not what any of them are looking at, though; what they see is the ring of dark bruises around her abdomen. The colors are many and varied and with almost every breath, Regina's teeth clench together. Remarkably, she doesn't make a sound and Emma finds herself again wondering about which parts of the former Regina had come from this woman and which parts had come from the one staring back at her from the cell.

Reminded suddenly of the existence of the Queen (which seems silly because really, how could she have forgotten her for even a moment) Emma looks over at her. She thinks that the gaze directed from the Queen towards her other half almost looks hungry. Almost looks wanting.

But then the Queen sees Emma watching and whatever honesty might have been there before is gone in a quick flash. Without even a slight pause, a cold smirk replaces the expression and then she's looking right at Emma like she's challenging her to come right at her about this.

Telling her to come and deal with that which Emma knows that she's not ready to deal with.

She turns away from the Queen and asks, "Okay, I'm going to start. So take a deep breath."

"Emma, just do it and get it over with."

"This will work?" Snow asks.

"It will work enough," Regina insists.

"Okay," Emma agrees and then she's settling her hands ever-so-lightly atop Regina's blazing hot skin. She tries not to think about the sudden spasm of warmth that runs through her or the way that Regina seems to shiver at even her touch. She tries to tell herself that it's all instinctual.

And that they're not reacting to each other.

She pushes these thoughts away – they're absurd and she's in love with someone else, and she'd gone down to the Underworld to save him and… she needs to just… focus. So she does.

A bluish-white magic surges from her fingers, swirls around in the air for a moment and then pushes into Regina's abdomen and then… then that's when Regina makes a sound. Almost like a low moan. Snow and David take it for pain, and Snow's hands are immediately clasping at Regina's shoulder to steady her, but Emma wonders if maybe it wasn't something else entirely.

Her eyes flicker back towards the Queen and oh, that smirk is still there.

Understanding everything that no one else is willing to even try to understand.

"That's enough," Regina says suddenly.

"You're sure? I barely—"

"Magic can correct – or corrupt – so much, but it can't completely heal broken bones," Regina notes, a hand lightly settling over Emma's wrist for just a moment. Gently, she guides Emma's hand away from her, retreating from the kind-hearted and genuinely offered contact which is entirely too welcomed – contact which Regina damn well knows isn't hers to desire or crave.

"Then, what did I do?"

"You made it better," Regina assures her. "I can breathe. I can sleep tonight."

"Good," David nods, his hand dropping down to find Snow's and offer a reassuring squeeze. "We all need that." Then, glancing over at the Queen. "We're sure that this cell will hold her?"

"It will for now," Regina confirms. "I can feel her using her magic to try to find openings, and eventually, she will find one. This isn't like the cell back in the Enchanted Forest. That one was created over centuries. But this one is still strong and it will hold her here for… a while."

"What's awhile?" David pushes. "Regina, what does that mean?"

"It means," Snow interrupts. "That we all need sleep. And she will be here in the morning."

"She will," Regina confirms, still refusing to look at the Queen at all.

"We should still do some kind of guard," David suggests. "We're already going to have a mess on our hands come the morning – people around here will want something done about what she did to the fairies, and they'll need to at least know that she's been completely contained."

"I agree," Snow puts in.

Emma glances back over at the cell, and back over at the Queen who continues to watch, that smirk still maddeningly in place. Like she thinks all of this is somehow deeply amusing.

"Okay," Emma finally concurs, a hand winding through her hair. "Then, I will—"

"No, not you, Swan," Regina cuts in. "You've been running around for two days straight."

"So have you."

"We'll take the first shift," David suggests. "One of you can swap out with us in four hours. We'll figure out who makes up the guard sometime tomorrow. After all of us have at least some rest."

"I don't know," Emma protests. "Neither of you have any magic."

"Emma," Regina says, a hand lightly on her arm. "She—" her eyes finally flicker up to the Queen's for a moment before sliding away. "Isn't close to figuring a way out of that cell yet.

There's no better time for Snow and David to be guarding her. They'll be all right; I promise."

"Fine," Emma nods. "But I want both of you to stay armed."

That finally gets a response from the Queen – a slight soft snort of bemusement.

"We will," David assures her. "Now both of you, go."

"We're going," Emma assures him with a tired chuckle. Then, to Regina, she says, "This is actually not terrible timing all things considered. We should probably check in on your sister and our kid, anyway. I'm sure he's scared out of his mind and well, she's… Zelena."

"Does that mean you'll be spending the night at my house?" the Queen suddenly asks, cutting off any response that Regina might have been about to offer up. "That sounds cozy. What would the good captain think about that, though? I bet all sorts of scandalous thoughts."

"You were wondering why she wasn't saying anything, weren't you?" Regina asks dryly.

"To be fair, I'm not really used to you not making a comment or two," Emma replies.

Regina's eyes jump back to the Queen's, and for a heated moment, they lock and oh, Emma thinks, there's that strange hunger in the Queen's gaze again and she thinks that if she didn't know better, she'd almost think the same expression to be in Regina's eyes as well. But then Regina is shaking her head and murmuring, "I'll see you in four hours, Your Majesty."

She then turns and walks away, not quite herself these days, but still with her own pride.

* * *

Henry is every bit his mothers' son. Both of theirs. And by the time his two moms drag their weary bodies in through the front door of the mansion, he's driven Zelena halfway around the bend with his refusal to be pushed into bed a moment before he's seen them home safe.

Zelena calls out from the doorway from the kitchen, "Fucking finally!"

And it's just the perfect punctuation mark on this whole day and so when Henry hits both of his mothers with enough force to knock them both over, they both end up laughing about it.

Because God, what a mess this all is.

And Emma realizes that her arms are around both Henry and Regina, pulling them to her. She realizes that her fingers are digging into Regina's back and Regina isn't objecting to the force.

What a mess, she thinks (even as she doesn't let go).

What a fucking mess.

* * *

"You know what you hate the most?" the Queen says less than thirty seconds after David and Snow have wandered down the rocky corridor that will lead them back to the surface. They're both exhausted and barely keeping their eyes open, but they have enough to make it home.

And thankfully, the Queen had fallen back into surprising silence which had made their shift of keeping an eye on the vengeful evil twin fairly easy if a little bit boring and uneventful.

Apparently, though, the silence is over and now Regina – on four hours of sleep – will get the pleasure of dealing with her agitated other half. She's here now instead of Emma (who, yes, had stayed over at the house thanks to her rather clear exhaustion) because she had insisted that Emma get the full eight hours of rest. There, had of course, been an argument (one which Emma had gone to sleep believing she'd won) but then Regina had "accidentally" turned off Emma's phone alarm and well, she's certain Emma will be cranky about that later but the truth is that Regina has survived on little sleep for most of her life so really this just makes sense.

She's somewhat regretting her decision now that she's facing the Queen alone, however.

Then again, she reminds herself, who's to say the Queen wouldn't have just waited, anyway?

She clearly has a lot to say, and perhaps now more than ever – now, without an audience or anyone to try to get between them – is exactly the right time for this conversation to occur.

So Regina squares herself and faces the Queen, "Do tell me," she instructs. "What do I hate?"

"That you're not all that sorry that all of those fairy bitches are dead."

"No," Regina denies. "I hate what you did today. I didn't want it. I told you that I didn't and you did your own thing anyway. But it's not just you – it's me. You put blood on my hands. Again!"

"Yes, I did. They turned their backs on us when we needed them, and so I made them pay for it," the Queen growls back at her, her eyes glittering with the madness of someone who believes their own words. "And whether or not you want to admit it, Regina, you are thankful for the many times that I've done the terrible things you don't have the courage to do."

"I have plenty of courage. And all you have done is put a target on my back. For someone who keeps insisting that they're just trying to take care of my interests, you keep hurting me."

"Well, maybe that's it. Maybe, I'm done protecting you. But what will you do without it?"

"I don't want your protection. I don't need it."

"Of course you do," the Queen laughs before saying with a sneer, "You have the courage to chase down a girl on a horse, and you can throw yourself in front of others and play the martyr, but when it comes to protecting yourself and protecting your self-interests, that always fell to me, didn't it? You were always content to play the doormat and allow everyone to use you."

"I've never been content," Regina counters, her voice soft enough to almost be inaudible.

"And yet you allowed the King to use you as a body. Just as you allowed that girl in the alley to do it. You allowed them to humiliate you and put you on your knees. You're pathetic."

"Maybe," Regina agrees. "But how's this for an 'and yet'?" She smiles coldly. "You still want me back. You think I'm pathetic and you hate all of the conflict inside of me – you hate that I care about these people and care about… you hate that I don't want power. But you still want me."

"Perhaps," the Queen agrees. "But, then, I'm not the problem, dear. What I want isn't what anyone cares about. No one loves evil, Regina. We know that better than most people. What they care about is what the so-called good part of you wants. And that's where the problem is, isn't it? Because deep down, my sweet better half, you know that you want me."

"I'm free of you," Regina tells her.

"Free is relative, isn't it?" the Queen says, her voice edged with mockery and disdain. "You're just as miserable as you were before. Your soulmate is still dead and forever gone, the pirate continues to draw breath, the girl you can't get out of your blood or heart sees you as little more than a friend, and oh yes, your magic is worthless because you're afraid of your own ugly emotions. Face it, Regina: you might be free of me, and you might have the entire Charming family around you, but the reason that they're there is because they see you as breakable."

"No."

"No? What about Henry?"

"Don't—"

"He's _my_ son, too," the Queen growls, her eyes suddenly glittering angrily; the fairy dust guarding the cell sparkles to dampen the effect of her magic and to keep her from being able to use it, but it can't stop her anger. "Everything that you did with him, I did as well. I protected him as much as you did. You can take everything else away from him, but he's mine, too."

"He believes in me. He wants this me," Regina tells her, vehemence causing her voice to tremble. "So you know what? Maybe I do miss you. Maybe part of me does want you back, but that's not going to happen. Because they all believe that this is who I can be. Someone—"

"Worthy? We'll never be worthy. Either one of us," the Queen tells her, suddenly sounding sad.

"I'm going to try. I have to try."

"The tenacity never did come from me," the Queen states.

Regina swallows hard, and starts to turn away, needing this conversation to be over. Needing all of this to be some kind of terrible nightmare that she can find a way to just wake up from.

But she knows better.

And the Queen says, "People want what seems easy. What seems right to them. No one ever wants to do what needs to be done too, though. They want someone else to do it. Our mother tormented you and twisted you around. She put shadows in your mind and violence in your thoughts, but you tried so hard to hold on to what Daddy gave us. Hope. You tried so very hard, but then you found yourself hovering in the air, piss and sweat dripping down you and—"

"I know this story," Regina growls, tears on her cheeks.

"You begged for help. Crying and pleading like the broken child that you were, you begged for anyone to hear you, but no one came. Not even our father who loved us so very much but not enough to ever stand up to our mother and most certainly not the fairies. No one but me. You created me, Regina. You made me your Savior, and I saved you. Because of me, you survived your mother. Because of me, you were able to survive the King. Because of me, you were able to become something more than just the prey. You became something more. The predator."

Regina holds out her hands as if to show her the blood that is on them. "I never wanted that."

"Maybe not, but it's what saved you."

"I never wanted a savior."

The Queen laughs, the sound dark and knowing. "And yet, you keep finding them, anyway."

"Leave her out of this."

"Just like Henry, she means something to me, too," the Queen reminds her, sounding angry for a moment before she calms and says, "She's a lot like us, Regina. You know that she is. Which means that it's not just the good part of you that she's attracted to. She doesn't want just you."

Regina shakes her head. "She doesn't want either of us, and even if she did, I'm not ready to move on. I'm… I'm not having this discussion with you. I'm not." Another step away from her.

"Of course not. Because then you would have to be honest with yourself, and admit that what you are now isn't… living. Grieving what we lost, surrendering to what we are, but never living."

"I'm surviving."

"You don't know how to without me."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? A thousand times over, you wanted to just lie down and die and I didn't let you."

"Well, perhaps we should have," Regina replies and then she's stepping into the shadows.

Where she can still see the Queen if she wants to, but the Queen can no longer see her.

Which oddly, feels rather like the story of her life.

* * *

She doesn't come in through the front door – that's far too pedestrian for a creature of her immense power, and she is frankly done with pretending that she's anything but powerful.

"You need to learn to hide better," she says and then chuckles darkly at that.

He falls away from the table he'd been sitting at and then tries to force a smile. He tries to be brave and hope that this isn't something terrible. "Did…did Henry send you?" he stammers out.

"Henry? Oh, no. He didn't send me. Has he been in touch?"

"He asked me to come by." He holds up a phone, a gift from the boy from weeks earlier. A way into the modern technology of this strange world. But he doesn't want to be in this world.

"That will have to wait," she says. "I have more important needs."

"I don't—"

"Shh," she soothes. "There's only one thing I need to know. And then, I'll leave you be."

He swallows, his panic painfully clear. "You won't hurt me?"

"No," she tells him stepping out of the shadows and showing herself to him – she is a small diminutive looking woman wearing the clothes of a nun. "Of course not, Dr. Jekyll; hurting you would go against my best interests. All I want to know is where I can find your darker half. And please," the Blue Fairy instructs as she holds up a wand, which is sparking dangerously. "Don't lie to me; I know how this works even if the others don't. Now tell me, where is Mr. Hyde?"

 **TBC**


	6. Six

**Warnings** : Some language, a semi-longish break up between Hook and Emma which might unsettle some and for those who prefer to be warned, there are brief mentions of Robin. Remember, part of this story is about Regina (and Emma as well) coming to terms with his death.

* * *

The Queen tries to stay as silent and immobile as her counterpart has managed to, but her resolve to not show off her agitation doesn't last more than an hour before the woman is up and moving around again, anxiously pacing back and forth in her cell. An exhausted and sore Regina watches from her perch within the shadows, carefully studying a person who might as well be her sister.

Twin sister? It's difficult to figure out what exactly her relationship to the Queen should be considered as.

At this point, the Queen is her own unique identity, no longer just a strange little whisper in the back of Regina's mind. She has her own thoughts, and now the ability to make her own desires come to fruition without being held back by her other side. At least in theory; Regina knows that even now, she has been tasked with continuing to restrain and control the Queen and this cell (one that she herself had been so fearful of… or perhaps that had always been the Queen, she'll never know) is proof of that. She bites back a low growl at the thought of this, at the thought of being a jailer. All she had wanted to do was escape the dark looming shadows of her past and instead she finds herself again gazing out from them.

"I can hear you thinking, dear girl," the Queen comments, her voice low and curious.

"Well, one of us should be," Regina drawls, not bothering to move out of the shadows. She really isn't interested in going another round with the Queen, but nor is she going to give the woman the smug satisfaction of thinking that she's avoiding her. The strange part about facing off against your other half is that you tend to know exactly what responses will please them.

As well as infuriate them.

"Oh, Regina, you know that I am always thinking. Our plans were always mine."

"Which is probably why they constantly failed."

"They constantly failed because you second-guessed everything. Instead of just allowing me to take over, you constantly wondered if there was another way to do things. One where others didn't have to suffer as much. _Couldn't we just finish Snow White off without any collateral damage? Oh, please?_ " She huffs in disgust. "Look how much we accomplished when you finally got out of our way, and allowed me to ascend to the throne. Look at how strong we were."

"Oh, yes, we became the Evil Queen, destroyed our heart for the sake of vengeance, ripped giant holes into the middle of our soul to justify hatred and oh, we were loathed by everyone."

"What did we care of the thoughts of those worthless mewling peasants. Strong as we were, we never needed anyone. We became powerful and damning, and no one dared to use us."

"Except Rumplestiltskin," Regina reminds her. "Or have you forgotten how well he played us?"

"Ambition has its failings," the Queen concedes. "But these are lessons learned. We can be—"

"I don't want to be anything that you want to be," Regina says as she stands up. She knows better. They can just keep going around and around like this, and she knows that they will. She knows that she should just refuse to rise to the bait; let the Queen stew in her silence.

But it's only three hours into a guard-duty shift which will be likely closer to eight hours than the envisioned four (having turned off Emma's alarm, she knows there will be no way for Emma to know that it's her turn to wake up and show up unless her parents rouse her, and they're unlikely to do so considering they'll likely be passed out as well), and she knows there's no way that she is going to be able to resist the Queen's goading for the whole night.

Because she knows the Queen well, knows that the woman will never stop looking for a weakness – be it in the cell which is holding her or the wardens who dare to keep her within it. So that brings her back around to where she'd started: attempt to stay infuriatingly quiet or fill up the remaining hours of consciousness (she dares not even try to doze off as that could allow the Queen an opening with which to try to escape this captivity) with conversation.

She can handle silence, but she knows that the Queen absolutely can't – the Queen has always represented her most anxious and ill-at-ease side. As a girl, she herself had actually been fairly still and quiet. Cora had mistaken this for being dim and disconnected and had pushed her to take an active hand in the things going on around her. To witness them and then control them.

Control had always been Mother's game.

By the time she had created the Queen to help her survive the many things that had started to haunt and tear at her, each one a vicious talon ripping away at her sanity, she'd found being still to be difficult to do. It had become something like compliant expected docility. The Queen had kept her in motion. The Queen had turned her stillness into action and converted her submissive down-turned chin into a defiant show of upturned dominance and superiority.

But now here they are and the question is: is that defiance still necessary? What is she defying and does it actually matter if she tries, anyway? Does anything matter or is it all just decided?

Regina sighs and steps fully out of the shadows, allowing the Queen to see her. Unsurprisingly, the Queen smiles immediately, her dark eyes lighting up. "No longer hiding from me. Good."

"I wasn't hiding from you," Regina tells her, her hand settling lightly over her ribs. She knows that she could hide the pain she's in from the Queen, but what would be the point? Who knows better than the Queen does just how often Regina has swallowed back her physical ailments all in the hope of not being thought weak? The Queen had been with her through so much pain – like when Rumple had gleefully dangled her from the edge of a crumbling rock in order to teach her fear (a lesson she'd never needed to learn), and when Owen had electrocuted her.

The Queen knows, and so Regina doesn't even bother trying to conceal her discomfort.

Besides, the Queen is still in her own pain; Regina had blasted her into unconsciousness the night before, and no one had dared try to check on her wounds. She likely has a mild concussion. Nothing new, Regina thinks. For either one of them.

"Yes, I know what you were doing," the Queen retorts, pulling Regina's thoughts away from whatever sympathy they might have been drifting towards. "The same thing you did before I pulled you out of the shadows and made you fight back instead of just sitting there and taking it like a 'good girl.' Well, you always did foolishly believe that being good would get you peace."

"That's how it's supposed to go," Regina says, unable to hide her deep sadness for a moment.

"Perhaps in a perfect world, but we both know by now that we – unlike Snow White and her prince – weren't born into such a world. Unless we do something about it, We are damned by our fate and everyone knows it. Even Emma does, because she shares the same fate. She will fight every single day and be so very good, and all for what reason? So she can scratch and claw her way for everyone else, but never herself. She will never find her own happiness."

"She's young and loved. She has a chance," Regina insists, and tries not to think about what she knows she shouldn't think about.

It's silly and wrong in both heart and spirit to think about some kind of weird future with Emma.

Not only is Emma with someone else – someone who is supposed to be her True Love – but Regina herself is still coming to terms the loss of a man whom she had loved. And even if she wasn't still in mourning, even if Emma wasn't with Hook, that doesn't mean that there would naturally be a _them_. Because as the Queen had said, Emma sees her as only her friend. Which she can live with – absolutely, she can. What she finds she can't just brush off as the nature of things, however, is the idea of Emma never finding her way to true happiness.

"Oh yes, she's most certainly loved. By you, by the pirate and by so many others. And because of that, because of the weight she feels and the responsibility she has to everyone who loves her, she'll fight and she'll fight and then one day, she'll be bleeding out on the street wondering what it was all for. She'll be wondering why she gave her life away. And it'll be all for nothing."

"You're wrong; she's _not_ like us," Regina tells her. "We know how our story will always go."

"So you still believe that you're doomed," the Queen notes, for a moment not sounding angry.

"I think I tried to believe that there was some happiness out there for me to find if I could just find a way to look for it without you being there, but there isn't. Your sins are mine, and they always will be. So the truth is, we're just not due any happiness. Either one of us."

The Queen growls. "Once again the martyr. Not willing to fight, always willing to surrender."

"What is there to fight for?" Regina puts up her hands. "Even without you, no one is going to look at me like I'm anything better than us. With you, I'm feared and loathed. Without you, I'm pitied and laughed at. I'm not sure which one is better, but neither road leads to happiness."

"And what of your thief."

"He's dead."

"Because of your other thief."

"No," Regina says vehemently.

"I'm you, Regina," the Queen reminds her. "I know what was in your head. I know the ugly thoughts you buried down deep. Thoughts you wouldn't allow yourself to have or feel because Good doesn't feel anger and hurt, right?"

Regina stares back at her, her nostrils flaring.

"Fine, you don't want to talk about that? Then let's talk about how you're fighting for the wrong things. Maybe life isn't meant to about happiness but rather satisfaction," the Queen suggests, her hands on the bars, her knuckles white with exertion. If she had access to her magic, the bars would surely be melting. "We knew a long time ago that there was no real happiness to be found, but we did know how to find pleasure and release. So maybe we seek that out."

Regina snorts in disbelief. "You were the one railing on me for—"

"For submitting," the Queen snaps. "She was not worthy of you. You are a wolf not a sheep. You _take_ , Regina."

"You sound like Mother."

"She was wrong about so much, but, in that, she was always right."

"You're both wrong." She shakes her head, unwilling to allow the weaker label to be assigned to her; the alley had been a mistake, but she'd been trying to connect with someone; she'd been trying to figure out what regular human interactions should feel like. After so much isolation, she hadn't known where to begin with the idea of normal, and had ended up falling into a vicious trip which her own instincts - however dulled - had warned her about. "I am no sheep."

"That bitch most certainly saw you as one." The Queen smiles, then, the look as evil and malicious as is possible, and Regina feels a cold shiver run up and down her. "But I promise you, my dear, in her final moments, as she looked back at me, she knew who the real wolf was."

Regina's eyes close. When she opens them, there's anger in her own eyes, and sarcasm tasting like acid on her tongue. "So is that what your plan is? You'll follow me around on every date and if they don't properly respect me, you'll staple them to a wall with broken kneecaps?"

The Queen shrugs, looking almost bored. "How droll an existence."

"Still better than your existence, which is all about just—"

"Taking. Yes. Until I have my fill. Until I am _sated_ ," the Queen proudly announces, her head held up in that way that only she can actually manage. Even a little bit bloody and grimy and locked behind bars with fairy magic glittering away, she somehow manages to look regal and imposing.

"I would rather something be given to me by request than provided by force. Including love."

"Said like such the hero you have tried to become. But you're not a hero, Regina. You're not really one of them. You're their pity project. Which is why you'll never actually _have_ anything."

"You're probably right," Regina admits wearily, and then turns around to walk away again, a hand running through her dark hair as she tries to keep her own head held up high; the Queen's words hit hard, of course, but she refuses to allow herself to show anymore weakness. She refuses to surrender so easy to the voices inside or outside of her head. The Queen might be right about everything, but she knows that if she actually allows herself to believe it, she's lost.

"You keep putting your back to me, Regina," the Queen calls out, her voice deceptively quiet and calm as she speaks. "You above all people know that I will only tolerate that for so long. You above all people know that I will not be ignored. I'm not you, dear; I will be seen. You know that."

Regina doesn't respond.

Can't respond.

Because yes, she knows.

* * *

It's the sound of a door opening which pulls her from the deep slumber which she'd been enjoying. For once, the dreams hadn't plagued her, and so she thinks that maybe she had been allowed to rejuvenate herself. Apparently, one can actually get four hours of sleep and—

"Swan," she hears from the doorway. It's while she's looking over towards him that her eyes flicker past the window and she sees the sunlight streaming in. Which is strange because shouldn't it still be relatively early? She's about to look around for her phone, but then he's moving towards her and there's an odd anxiety to his movements which catches her attention.

"Killian," she finally greets, her words more of a sigh than anything else. She knows that that's not exactly fair, but after their argument and everything else that had happened yesterday, she's not really in the mood for another round. She wouldn't have minded a bit more space.

Which is probably problematic considering the fact that she's now living with this man.

"You didn't come home last night," he states, trying (and failing) to not sound accusatory.

"I thought you were staying on your boat," she replies, looking down at the flannel pants and tank top that she'd fallen asleep in. It takes her a long half-coherent moment to recall that the pants had come from Henry's room (he's taller than both of his moms now) but the shirt had come from Regina's wardrobe. Which is why it's an oddly fancy one instead of just cotton.

Because of course, Regina Mills doesn't just sleep in five-dollar white ribbed tank-tops.

"Ship," he corrects almost instinctively and then he waves his hook in the air as if to lazily dismiss the point, but there's a tightness around his eyes. "And I did for a few hours, but then I went back to _our_ house. The one we share, remember? I thought that maybe we could talk."

"I'm guessing you didn't hear about everything that went down last night," Emma notes, running her hands up and down her arms in order to warm herself up. She feels a bit out of sorts right now, like she can't quite get her bearings on what should actually be happening.

"Aye, Henry filled me in when he let me in. Said the Queen took out a bunch of fairies and then you took out the Queen. That's where Regina is now, right?" he's clearly trying to be somewhat conciliatory, trying not to strike the same aggressive and antagonistic tone towards Regina as he had before. It rings a bit false, though, because she's struck with the realization that he's just glad that Regina isn't here. In her own house. Which makes her wonder why he'd come over.

After all, he hadn't known about the danger that they'd all been in the night before, which suggests that he'd come over here because he'd believed that she'd been here with Regina.

She's about to go down that road, but then her mind jumps the tracks and she finds herself thinking about Henry being awake at what should be an ungodly hour… telling stories… wait…

Emma turns towards the clock on the dresser (she'd meant to fall asleep on Regina's couch, but the Mayor had been fairly insistent that if her short-rest before guard duty was going to bear any results, well then Emma would need a comfortable bed for that) and startles when she sees that it's well after ten in the morning. Which means that not only had she slept through the replacement of her parents but also through Regina's expected four-hour guard-duty shift.

"Emma?" Hook prods when he notices that her attention has completely shifted from him.

"Hang on," Emma replies, looking for her phone and finally finding it on the carpet next to the opposite side of the bed from the one she'd been sleeping on. For one, she's fairly sure that when she had knocked out, the phone had been on the nightstand. For two, it should have gone off with an unholy blaring sound almost eight hours ago. It hadn't. She plucks up the phone and lets out an audible growl when she sees that not just one, but all of her alarms have been turned off. She doesn't even need to guess who had done the turning off. "Goddammit."

"I'm guessing there's a problem," he notes, and she can hear the creeping irritation in his voice.

"Yes, she let me sleep for almost twelve hours. I slept for twelve hours," she grits her teeth, takes a breath and then tries to explain. "We have the Queen in the mines, but until we're sure the cell will hold or we come up with a better way to keep her from doing… what she does—"

"I'm guessing that killing the Queen is off the table as a way to stop her?" He's trying to make it sound like he doesn't care, but being that she'd almost killed him the day before and he has significant issues with both her and her other half, he's coming up short in his attempt. Emma thinks that she should probably be touched by his attempts at being part of the team, but she can see the way his jaw is flexing now and it occurs to her that he's really holding back here.

Holding back on what he actually wants to say.

"Yeah. That didn't work on the roof in New York, and as much as Regina thinks it'd be nice to just get rid of the Queen, I think we're getting some pretty strong evidence it's not so easy."

"So you're all taking turns guarding her?"

"We were supposed to be. But Regina turned off my alarm. Which means she's been there for almost eight hours. God only knows if she bothered sleeping at all last night," Emma groans.

"Regina is a big girl," Hook reminds her. He licks his lips, like he's considering whether he's going to say what he's thinking. But then: "To be honest, I would be more worried about her intent as opposed to whether or not she's in danger from the Queen." At Emma's head cocking in confusion, he carefully continues with, "Perhaps there's a reason why she didn't want you there and preferred that she be the one to guard the Queen alone. Have you considered that?"

Emma shakes her head in disbelief (she sees him take one small step backwards, recognizing her displeasure). "I don't get it. You know how hard Regina is trying to be a better person. You know how much she is trying not to be who she was. Why do you always see the worst in her?"

"Because she always sees the worst in me," he snaps back, unable to hide his anger or derision any longer. He'd gone back to the house the night before expecting the chance to make up with Emma and get their earlier fight behind them, but more and more he's starting to realize that nothing is staying behind them anymore. "Do you know what she sees when she looks at me?"

"No."

"Someone who isn't worthy of you and never will be. Someone that she's better than."

"I think you're projecting," Emma tells him, though she knows Regina is hardly fond of him.

"You do, do you? And what brings you to that fabulous conclusion?" His tone is mocking, hard.

Her eyes narrow at his anger, but she answers with, "The Regina we have right now? She may not care for you, but that has more to do with the history you share as opposed to her thinking she's better than you. This Regina – this part of her – has absolutely no confidence in herself. She didn't call anyone to come over and keep her company when she was alone, and she didn't reach out for help when she was sick thanks to her wonky magic. She believes she's a burden."

"She is," he states.

"No, she's my friend," Emma says quietly, her eyes filling with tears as she sees where this is going. "And my family. I need you to understand that."

"And I'm your…" he shakes his head. "Actually, Swan, I have no idea what I am to you."

She looks at him in disbelief. "Are you serious right now?" When his only response is to stare at her defiantly, she says, "Look, I don't know what is going on with you or why you're so angry at me, but you have got to stop this. Or we're not going to last. And that will be all on you."

"Of course. Because you never take the responsibility for anything, do you? Become the Dark One and then turn me into one against my will, and yet when I ask you to be around, you're more interested in chasing after whichever bloody half of Regina needs your attention today."

"I think I'm pretty good at taking responsibility," Emma replies. "I know what I did. As for being around, I'm sorry if I can't just go home and cuddle with you on the couch with some popcorn and beer, but shit went down last night, Killian, and my job as both the Sheriff and as, y'know, a good fucking person is to do something about it. I thought that you understood that about me."

"How many times are you going to let this town just stomp you into the dirt?"

"This isn't about the town or my responsibility, and you know it so don't you dare use that as an excuse to justify this."

"All right, Swan, tell me, what is this about?" he says, his lip curling up into a sneer; she knows this anger by now, has been on the opposite side of it before. Only this time, he's not the Dark One. This time he's just Killian Jones and he's fighting against all of his own impulses and losing more than he's winning.

"It's about how angry you are at me and how much you resent me bringing you back. Okay, that's on me. I fucked up, and I hurt you and I am… I am sorry. More than you know, I am. But… but the question is, Killian, are you capable of forgiving me for what I did and is there anything worth saving even if you are?"

"I love you," he reminds her, and seems almost sad about it.

"You say the words, but I'm not sure they mean anything. To either one of us." She says these words softly, her hand lifting up to rub away the tears which are now falling quick and hard.

He starts to reply, but then stops. "I came back for you," he finally says, his words barely above a whisper, a noticeable crack in the middle. There's something deep and festering right beneath them, a kind of simmering resentment that he doesn't seem to know how to give form to.

"No, you came back because you were sent back. If we're going to be honest with each other, then let's be honest. You said I went after you because I was afraid of being alone, and you're right. Just as I'm right that you didn't choose to be here." Her eyes brighten for a moment as realization hits her hard, and then they dull as she says, "And you don't want to be here now."

"You're breaking up with me, aren't you?" he asks in disbelief.

"Right now, I'm going over to the mines to relieve Regina. She's been there the last eight hours. Putting up with the part of her that knows how to make a paper-cut feel like an evisceration. She's there because she's a stubborn ass who thinks this is protecting me. But I don't need nor want anyone else protecting me at the expense of themselves. I don't want that weight." She looks at him. "And I don't want the weight of having to keep someone afloat who doesn't want to be. I'm my own mess, Killian; I can't be yours as well. Especially if I'm the reason you're it."

"So this is it for us? We go from you saying my anger could end us to us just being over?"

"I don't know. Maybe when this whole mess is settled and the Queen and Regina are where they're supposed to be and everyone can just… take a breath, maybe then we can figure out if there's anything left." Emma shrugs her shoulders. "But maybe we need to accept there isn't."

"Right. Accept it and move on. Except you don't know how."

"I'm trying."

He shakes his head. "You know, she's in love with you. Regina, the Queen, whoever. I'm sure they'll be delighted to find out that you're single again. Not that she cared about that before."

"I told you this before: I am not a possession to be won or lost. No one can steal me away, if that's what you're suggesting. If anything were to ever happen between me and Regina, it would be entirely because I wanted it to happen. Right now, romance isn't exactly a big concern of mine; we have bigger problems."

"You have bigger problems," he tells her. "I'm...done."

"Okay," she says, the single word thick in her throat.

He starts to turn around, then stops. "I really did go home – back to the house last night because I thought we could talk. I was going to apologize for everything that happened at the docks. For everything that I said to you. I figured we could just...get over it together." He flashes a bright smile at her, but it's only on the surface, and she thinks that maybe he's never looked more lost than he does right now.

"And now?"

"I'm realizing that the apology would have been a lie." He gestures between the two of them. "We have two different worlds between us right now. You're here and I'm… still down there." He taps the side of his head. "At least here. Where it matters."

"I'm sorry," she says again, and blinks rapidly because the last thing she wants to do right now is completely break down here. It's not just him – it's so very much, but the emotion is right on the edge of it all. The fear for Regina and the realization that something that she'd given up everything for is crumbling.

And maybe she's not as devastated about the end of them as she knows that she should be.

"For?" he asks, his head cocking to the side, looking like he's finally listening to her.

"For bringing you back to a world you were completely done with. What I did to you was unforgivable. I understand that and a thousand times over, I'm sorry." She takes a breath. "But you're here now, Killian. And unless you're planning on some grand re-exit, you've got to figure out what to do next with the new life that you were given. Because this anger you have? It's completely destroying you. I wish I could be the one standing beside you while you get through it, but -"

"I don't want you there," he tells her.

She nods and then keeps nodding (it's all she can do not to completely come apart) as he leaves the room, not bothering to close the door.

Which allows Snow to step through it. "Hey, your father and I are about to head over to the forest to see if we can find Jekyll; he's not responding to any messages and -" she stops abruptly, taking in her daughter's tear-stained face. "Honey, what just...what happened?"

"I think I just broke up with Hook." Emma laughs when she says that even though it's not funny.

Even though the last several months of her life have been spent trying to justify choices that she'd made that had been all about validating and securing a presumed happily ever after. Now… if that happily ever after is gone, what do any of her choices mean?

Now, if she and Hook aren't the riding-off-into-the-sunset story, then what do the sacrifices mean? What does everything she'd done to keep him alive and with her… and the losses that had been suffered because of those choices… what does it all mean? How can it be justified?

"You think?" Snow asks, stepping close to her and placing a hand on each of her shoulders.

"I think I cost us everything," Emma replies, looking up at her mother, tears continuing to fall.

"We're still all here," Snow reminds her.

"Are we? Robin is dead. Regina won't ever blame me for it, but every time the Queen mentions him, it's because somewhere deep down in Regina, she did blame me. Because I wouldn't let Hook go." She makes a sound which can only really be described as halfway to hysterical. "I ran towards the first person who wanted me so much that they would chase me. I ran towards a man who would give up almost anything to be with me. I called it love because if someone could sacrifice his home for me, I figured that it had to be love, and because of that, all of you were put in horrible danger and two kids no longer have a father."

"Emma—"

"I know; you want to tell me that it's okay, and that we do crazy things for the people we love. You want to tell me that Robin made a choice when he did what he did - that he put himself in front of Regina because he loved her - but that doesn't make it better. That doesn't make my role in his death less awful. I exposed us all to Hades because I was chasing after my own happy ending. We can call it whatever want to, but that's what it is. I did everything that I did - I endangered all of you - for a man who when he looks at me, all he sees is the person who is making him have to continue living a life that he was done with. He kept begging me to let go, but I wouldn't do it because I was afraid. I was so afraid of losing again and ending up all alone. And now it's all broken."

"Maybe if you just—"

"If we just slow down and talk it out then maybe everything will be okay?" Emma finishes for her, forcing a thin smile. "It's a great plan, but we've never done that. Talking things out was never really our way. Hook and I made sense as long as everything kept moving, but we...don't anymore. And if we don't, if this was just...another chapter, then everything that I did and everything that happened...it was for nothing, Mom. I nearly destroyed all of us for nothing."

Snow starts to reply, but then stops and lets out a breath. "What do you need from me?"

"Be my mom today."

"I'm always your mom."

"No, I mean tell me that it doesn't matter if I'm not happy. Or if I screw everything up. Tell me you'll still love me even when—" she shakes her head. "Tell me you still love me. Please?"

"Oh, Emma." Snow steps forward, then, and with surprising strength, she pulls her daughter close and hugs her, her arms wrapping around Emma's frame. She feels Emma dip her head towards her shoulder, and says, "You could light your father on fire, and I would still love you."

Emma's head pops up. "Why would I light dad on fire?"

Snow grins at her, and it works; Emma lets out a short laugh. "I love you," Snow repeats, her words strong and emphatic. There have been times when Emma has chafed at the ease with which her parents can love, but in this moment, she gravitates towards it with greedy hands.

And holds onto her mother even tighter.

* * *

"Savior!" the Queen shouts out, and despite Regina's best intentions, she apparently had actually dozed off because the Queen's loud voice is like jumper cables to her heart. She jerks forward against her rocky perch, nearly stumbling over herself, her sore ribs creaking in protest.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," Emma chirps, her voice curiously high and enthusiastic as she steps into the opening. Regina quickly takes her in, noting her fresh clothes and clean hair as well as the coffee holder and pink pastry box in her hands. Emma is, Regina observes, curiously free of makeup though her eyes look somewhat puffy and bleary to her. "I figured everyone" —she finds Regina and nods— "Would be a little hungry and some of us might need caffeine."

"Some of us?" Regina asks, her voice low and rough as she gingerly steps completely out of the shadows. Noticeably, Regina avoids the Queen's roaming eyes. Eyes, which had been previously sliding up and down over Emma's body in an intentionally predatory way (Emma had noticed, of course, but had chosen not to react to what was clearly an attempt to bait her), but which have now moved over to Regina and are currently tracking her every move with sharp curiosity.

"I meant her," Emma announces, jerkily gesturing with her right thumb over towards the Queen. "I've decided that she has to be the part of you which is super cranky in the morning."

"There's one way you can confirm that… theory," the Queen says with a salacious grin.

"Oh, give it a rest," Regina growls.

"As you can, socialization and niceties were always my domain." Off of Regina's loud scoff, she shrugs her shoulders. "Perhaps not. But I do need to burst your bubble—" she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "You're wrong about which part of us hates mornings." She looks over at her angrily glaring counterpart "Tell the truth now, Regina; you hated mornings so much that Mother used to have to throw you out of bed all the time when you were still just a small petulant child." She leans against the cell bars, malice in her eyes. "Sometimes with magic."

"Shut up," Regina snaps out irritably (Emma suspects that this is more than just annoyance about the Queen's uncomfortably sexually tinged words and is something far closer to a direct hit on Regina's still not entirely resolved childhood, but she knows that this is neither the time nor the place to pull on that particular thread). With something like a derisive snort, Regina then visibly steps in front of the Queen, blocking her view of Emma entirely. It's a childish game, but it's better than what she'd actually like to do to the Queen right now (now that she's far enough removed from the rooftop and has the very likely reality of having to repeat her actions there, she's starting to wonder if killing yourself when that self happens to exist in its own unique body is suicide or murder; both make her feel more than a little nauseous). "You were saying about breakfast?"

"Yeah," Emma nods as she holds up the pink pastry box for them. "Doughnuts. And I brought you some coffee, too," Emma tells her and offers her a cup. "Two sugars." She holds up a cup for the Queen. "But none for you. I'm guessing you prefer your coffee as black as your soul."

"I'm sure she means heart as you have no soul. And just in case you're mistaking her intent, she's actually mocking you," Regina tells her, not even bothering to look at the Queen.

"I do have a soul. But you already knew that. Because like it or not, Regina, what you did split our soul in two."

"It did?" Emma asks, her brow furrowing as she considers the implications of that.

Regina rolls her eyes. "She's delusional."

Which isn't exactly an answer, Emma notes, but then the Queen is pushing ahead with, "But you're not wrong about my coffee or me. I do enjoy it...dark."

It's somewhat surreal for Emma to see the Evil Queen acting like she's just a playful little girl trying to unnerve her instead of the vengeful murdering dark angel that she had been the night before. Now, despite her audacious clothing and her high hair and brightly colored cheeks, the Queen seems almost childish and like she just wants some fun. She seems almost like — despite the magical bars which are holding her back and preventing her from committing her specific brand of mayhem — she lives in fear of nothing. She almost seems like despite the fact that she is a prisoner, she's finding all of this just a little bit amusing.

Emma shakes her head and turns her attention back to Regina. "You were supposed to wake me up last night," she comments, smiling even though the humor is dropping away rapidly. Her eyes flicker over Regina, and she can see the exhaustion and pain scratched deep into the lines of her face. She'd perhaps managed a few hours while David and Snow had been standing guard, but considering the last few weeks she'd had, it's hardly enough. Not that Regina would ever admit to such a thing, but her hand is rested across her sore ribs (better but not healed, and that's a distinction which is not lost on Emma no matter how much Regina wishes it).

"No, your phone was," Regina counters.

"A phone which you conveniently muted."

"I didn't mute it; I turned the alarm off. You needed sleep."

"And you didn't? You look like hell."

"Apparently no one has ever told our dear Savior here," the Queen suddenly intercedes, still leaning forward against the bars. "That insulting our appearance is not the way to our heart."

"For once, she's right," Regina notes.

"Well, then I suppose it's a good thing that the only thing I'm trying to do right now is keep you from passing out. You took a nasty hit to the gut yesterday; go home and rest. I've got this."

"She's got me, Regina; it's okay," the Queen assures her.

Regina turns to face her. "If you do anything – try anything – I will—"

"Destroy me if it's the last thing you do, yes, I know. Do try to remember that that was my line."

Regina grits her teeth, then snatches at the cup of coffee in the carrier (the one with a big R across it – the other says Majesty) and starts to stop. Only a stray glance at Emma – and the observation that her eyes really do look rather puffy – stops her. "What happened?" she asks.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been crying. Emma, what happened?" Regina says softly, her eyes suddenly intense, but her tone soft. She takes one small step towards Emma, like she might touch her. At the last moment, she pulls up short, her hands falling to settle over her belly instead.

"She broke up with Captain STD finally, didn't she? Didn't you?" the Queen announces. Oh, it sounds like a question, but the almost mad glee on her face makes it clear that it's a triumphant statement.

"Did you?" Regina presses, once again positioning herself between Emma and the Queen.

Emma smiles thinly. "It's fine." When Regina starts to protest, she says again, "It's fine."

"Okay," Regina nods, straightening. "Then, I guess I'll leave you to it. I'll see you in a few hours."

Emma's head tilts, her mouth slightly open. "Regina, wait—"

"As you said, it's fine." One more step away, but then softly, "Be careful, Emma." Her eyes flicker up towards the Queen and when they meet, there's an electric change between the two halves of the whole. A charge, and again that unmistakable feeling of deep want dancing there.

Regina turns away, takes a sip of her coffee to give her something to do, and then walks away.

"You hurt our sweet girl's feelings," the Queen notes. "She was trying to be a good _friend_ to you. And you rejected her. Ouch."

"I didn't reject her and I m not talking about this – Regina or my love life – with you," Emma announces as she turns slightly away so that she can open up the box of doughnuts. She extracts a circular one which has been decorated with rainbow sprinkles and then extends the box to the Queen.

"Sedatives, I presume," the Queen comments, her eyebrow arching up.

"You know me better than that," Emma tells her. "You know that's not my kind of game."

"Mm. So you're allowed to know me, but I'm not permitted to speak of what I know of you."

Another short smile and then Emma is shaking the box. "Regina likes maple bars. You, too?"

"I like apple fritters," the Queen says and it sounds almost like she's suddenly sulking.

"Of course you do," Emma notes with a small bemused chuckle. "You super-villains and your shtick." She steps closer to the bars, then, with the box still extended out. "Try anything at all and no breakfast."

"That's quite the threat," the Queen mocks.

"You say that now, but in four or five hours, you're gonna be cranky as well...and Evil Queen." She smirks at her own joke even as both of the other women roll their eyes in annoyance. "I mean, I might have been wrong about which part of you hates mornings, but everyone needs sugar."

"This is a joke to you?"

"No," Emma says, suddenly growing somber. "None of this is remotely funny. Least of all the damage that you've done to Regina's life or the blood that you have put on her hands."

"I saved her," the Queen reminds her. "She wouldn't be here without me."

"I know," Emma nods. Then reiterates, "I do know. But she thinks she doesn't need you anymore."

"But you know better, don't you? You know that's not how it really works."

"Yeah." Emma tilts her head. "So this is all really just love sonnets to get her back?"

The Queen growls. And is about to say something – probably something cruel – when she suddenly winces, her hand instinctively going up to her forehead.

Which, of course, Emma notices. She steps closer to the cell. "Regina wasn't the only one who got knocked around yesterday. She knocked you clean out."

"I recall," the Queen says, forcing her hand back to a resting spot.

"Maybe I can help you."

Imperiously, the Queen refutes with, "You would heal me? Knowing the danger of doing so."

"You say you know me? Then you know that I would. But we have to make a deal."

"Let me guess: You'll heal me and feed me as long I agree to play nice?" the Queen huffs at that. "How domestic and well-trained. To think that she actually wants that silliness."

"Is being safe and happy with your family really…silliness?" Emma asks.

"It's an illusion," the Queen retorts. "By now, Swan, even you know that family will always let you down when it matters most. Regina likes to pretend that she doesn't know that; she wants so desperately to be loved that she's willing to forgive everyone who has hurt her, but I'm not. I won't forgive just for a few pathetic scraps of affection. Because I remember what Mother did. I know what my father did not do. I recall what Zelena did and what we lost because Regina decided that she just had to forgive her. And I know what Snow White's betrayal did to us."

"And Henry? Have you forgiven him for bringing me to town?"

"I haven't forgiven you for coming to town."

"I think you're lying," Emma tells her.

"Because you can always tell?" the Queen mocks.

Emma smirks. "Yes. But that's not the point, and don't think I didn't notice that you didn't answer the question. Your mother, your father, your sister, my own mother… I get your anger at them." She looks pointedly at the Queen. "I even get your anger at me. Over ever coming to this town and over what happened to Robin - over what both of you lost because of what I did. I understand your refusal to forgive; if she didn't want to ever forgive me, I would understand. But I'm not Henry. Henry's different. So tell me, Your Majesty, and be honest: do you believe he'll let you down? Have you forgiven him for what he did to you?"

"He's my son."

"I know. Answer the question."

"You have an impertinent mouth."

"Answer. The. Question."

"Henry is my son. And whether you or Regina choose to believe it, I am still capable of love, and I still love him. And yes, I forgave him. But that doesn't mean that I believe that it will ever end any way other than it always has unless I do something about it. Unless I make sure that I never lose again."

"So it's better to reject the idea of love and destroy everything as opposed to—"

"Letting it destroy me. Yes. Because Mother was right—"

"Your mother was wrong. And you know it. Regina knows it."

"Does she? Did she learn that lesson down on her knees in the alley? Or was it while we were burying her lover? Or perhaps it was while she was looking at you finding it laughable that you could ever see her as something more than a friend." The Queen grins. "Have you found love to be a strength? When it made you surrender yourself to darkness for it. Or chase a man to the Underworld who no longer wanted you? When he walked away from you, was it still strength?"

"I'm still here," Emma tells her, her voice soft. "And you have no idea what I find laughable."

"No?"

"No."

The Queen steps back, suddenly and oddly quiet, her gaze thoughtful. "Interesting," she says, her eyes unnervingly keen.

"So," Emma finally says, because she desperately needs to change the subject. "What's it going to be? Do you let me help you out or do you stay stubborn just for kicks and spend the day hungry and with a pounding headache? Because we can do it either way, and it's no skin off my back."

"What does it matter to you? Aren't you just going to kill me again, anyway? Or at least try."

"Nope," Emma says, meeting her eyes. "I don't think that's the solution here."

A flash of surprise and shock crosses the Queen's face, but within seconds, it's gone, replaced by wild-eyed mirth. "Oh? And what is? Saving my soul with love?" She titters at that, her lip quirked up in an expression that can only be described as outright mockery of the inane idea.

"Nah, you're not ready for that answer just yet," Emma tells her.

"Perhaps not, but we do have all the time in the world, don't we?" The Queen shrugs her shoulders, seeming like she doesn't have a care in the world. "Or at least all the time until I figure out how to get out of this cell. Then, my dear Savior, you should probably run. Fast."

"I'm not afraid of you," Emma tells her and then reaches into the box and breaks off a piece from the apple fritter in there. "I took on both of you when you were still together."

"Yes, you did," the Queen agrees. "I do believe that I owe you for that."

Emma pops the doughnut into her mouth. "So you're telling me this is going to be an interesting afternoon," she states after a moment of slow chewing.

The Queen's lip curls up, her eyes dancing with a million charged up emotions, "Oh..yes."

 **TBC...**


	7. Seven

**Warnings** : Language and violence and some depression and deep introspection. And oh...cliffhanger? ;)

* * *

It's Zelena who greets Regina first when she steps into her house. Zelena who puts her hands all over Regina like she's checking her sister over and making sure that she hasn't been harmed. It's still strange to have this kind of affection from Zelena, but Regina understands; for her, it had been Henry and eventually Emma and Snow who had anchored her. For Zelena, Regina is the person who keeps her looking upwards instead of assuming that there's nowhere to look.

"You're hurt," Zelena announces, one of her hands reaching out to touch Regina's abdomen like someone would touch a baby bump. If Snow or even Emma had done such a thing without hesitation, Regina would have been surprised; though Emma especially has never been one for observing personal bubbles, she has always been careful and cautious about touching people without permission – likely owing to her days in the system. Snow touches more freely, but there remains just enough distance (admittedly, it grows less with each passing day) between the two of them to slow Snow and make her think twice. Zelena, however, is another matter entirely. She has her hands all over Regina within seconds, her blue eyes widened with worry.

"Broken ribs. Half-healed," Regina confesses as she catches Zelena's hands and moves them away from her abdomen.

"Do you want me to maybe –"

"I just want to sleep," Regina cuts in. "To be honest, Zelena, I think if I tried to absorb any more magic from anywhere or anyone anytime soon, I'll probably end up on the bathroom floor."

"Of course," Zelena says, backing off quickly.

A strange understanding glimmers in Regina's dark eyes, then, and before Zelena can manage to get more than a foot away, Regina is suddenly grabbing her wrist with surprising strength. "No, wait," she says. "Thank you. I…I appreciate that you're here. More than you know."

Zelena allows herself to look touched for a moment before she slides back into comfortable sarcasm. "Well, I'd prefer to keep my magic inside of me, anyway. Never know when I'll need it to blast Snow White off a porch." She wiggles her eyebrows at that, which yes, makes Regina chuckle.

"Where are the prince and princess, anyway?" Regina queries.

"I think they went to see that Jekyll weirdo. Henry's boring himself at school and my little bean is finally sleeping." Zelena shrugs. "Which means that it's just me and I'm absolutely bored."

"Sorry," Regina tells her. "But my bed is calling my name. Quite loudly, I might add."

"I know," Zelena grumbles. Then, brightening, "I could watch the Queen for a spell."

"Emma's with her," Regina reminds her.

"And you don't trust me."

"I think keeping you and her separate would be a very good idea," Regina hedges.

"Why?" Zelena asks, her head tilting. After a moment, "Because she blames me for Robin's death. Which means that you still blame me for it. I suppose that's fair, right. But -"

"The Queen is the irrational part of me," Regina cuts in gently. "You're my sister. Whatever we have between us, whatever we still need to work through, that won't change. You're my sister."

Zelena lets out a breath, seeming to understand. "Go sleep," she finally mutters.

Regina squeezes her wrist again, holds it for effect, and then turns and heads for the stairs.

* * *

The cabin in the woods where Jekyll has been hiding out in is one of those super dreary types, the kind so dark and dank that jokes about the inhabitants being serial killers come easy. Of course, it's also a place where getting ahold of someone is a bit more of a task. In theory.

But Snow White had not only been quite the bandit, she had also been quite the hunter, and her prince had spent more than a few afternoons chasing after missing members of his flock. For them, going over and under fallen branches is just an exciting trip down memory lane.

And they're enjoying it.

Until David's phone rings.

Which kind of breaks up the old-school illusion.

"Emma," he tells Snow just before he answers it. "Hey," he greets. There's a pause and then, "We're still trying to find Dr. Jekyll."

"Is she still with the Queen?" Snow asks, leaning in towards him.

"Yeah," he responds. "I can hear her in the background. I think she just made a joke about me and…" he makes a face and shakes his head in disgust at whatever he'd heard, and then goes back to listening to Emma. "If you're okay with that, yeah, that'd be great. I think after Regina changes out with you later tonight, Granny and Leroy are going to try to help out. Even if they can only pick up one shift a day, that will help us be able to keep control of her, I think."

"Is Emma doing okay?" Snow presses. "Ask her if she's okay."

"She says she's fine, and not to worry," David tells her after a moment.

"I'm allowed to worry," Snow insists.

"How about you two have this conversation later," David suggests. Then, speaking to both of them, he says, "For now, we're going to find Jekyll and you'll keep guarding the Queen." He listens again. "Good. If you need anything, let us know. Right. Promise. You, too."

He pockets the phone and looks over at his wife. "I'm allowed to worry," she says.

"You are," he agrees.

"She thought Hook was her happily ever after."

"Regina thought Daniel and then Robin were hers. Sometimes it doesn't work out."

"I need it to work out for her."

"Her and Hook?"

"No. Her and happiness. Hook was—" she shrugs.

"I know."

"But I want…everything for her, David. _Everything_."

David squeezes her hand. "Then trust that she'll find a way. Right now, she just needs our—"

"Support," Snow finishes. "I know. And she has it." She sighs and looks ahead. "I think the cabin is another mile up ahead. It'd be easier if we had wings."

"Maybe," he agrees. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this." He reaches down suddenly, puts both arms under his wife and then lifts her up, twirling her around as he climbs them over the felled trunk of a once massive tree. It's incredibly bad form for dealing with forest obstacles, but she's laughing and he's laughing, and this feels like a lot of the adventure they've been missing for so long.

They love their family, and they love what they have.

They love their lives, and they love who they are.

But every now and again, it's nice to remember who they were.

* * *

"Wanted to stay with me that badly, did you, Swan?" the Queen teases, smiling wildly. She's clearly exhausted and not feeling well, but it's little to no surprise to Emma that the woman is continuing to stubbornly stand tall and defiant.

"Not particularly, no—"

"Liar," the Queen accuses.

Emma ignores her, and pushes on. "I just don't want anyone else to have to deal with you."

"Or you want to keep me all to yourself."

"Are you flirting with me? I mean, I know you are in your own weird twisted Evil Queen way, but do you actually think that this will make me yank open the door to that cell so that—"

"We can fuck each other against the walls?" the Queen finishes for her. She shrugs. "It's an interesting thought, if nothing else. But I suppose you're too heroic to give in to simple lust." She laughs, then, "Oh, wait, you're not; that's why you made the pirate a great evil and why you then endangered our son by following after the piece of trash who tried to _kill_ our son."

Emma blinks, thrown by the in-sentence mood shift from the Queen. "So this is what you've thought all along? That I let everyone down with what I did? Is this what she thinks, too?"

"Yes," the Queen replies, the single word like a poisonous snake hissing. "Oh, but we both know that Regina will never admit that. She cares too much about you – and craves you in her life far too much – to ever tell you the truth."

"And what's the truth?" Emma queries. "Do you love me or do you hate me?"

"Can't it be both, dear?"

"Is it both?"

The Queen chuckles. "Such a thin line. It's always fun to play upon it."

"Until you don't know what side you're on, anymore."

"Oh, I always know what side I'm on. My own. The only side that I can truly trust."

"Which is why we've been here for a few hours and you're still hungry and hurting."

The Queen just glares at her in response.

"Got you there, didn't I?"

"What I don't understand is why she didn't let me kill you when we both despised you."

"You'll have to ask her," Emma shrugs, opening the doughnut box again. "Fritter is still here."

"Half-eaten."

"Shouldn't be a problem unless this part of you eats less like a bird than the other part."

"Neither one of us eats like a bird, you utter moron; we just don't feel the need to let everyone watch us eat constantly. Some of us actually have something vaguely resembling decorum."

"And some of us are hungry right now." Emma shrugs as she tears off another piece of one of the doughnuts and pops it into her mouth. They've been at this game for hours, and while Emma is deriving more than a bit of amusement in annoying the Queen, she's starting to worry that this little stunt of hers might end up adding fifty pounds to her ass. "You'd like these."

"Unlikely, and I grow weary of this discussion," the Queen announces imperiously.

"Which is your way of admitting that you're getting your royal ass kicked by a street rat."

"Open the cell door, Savior, and I'll show you an ass kicking that you won't soon forget. Or, I suppose, you can just sit there licking your fingers."

Emma shakes her head in bemusement. "Flirting _really_ isn't your forte. Your Majesty."

"You're right. My forte is much more about…uncomfortable truths." The Queen wraps one of her hands around the bars to the cell. "Such as the fact that part of the reason that you're here right now is because you're avoiding having to deal with what happened this morning. You're avoiding dealing with the end of your happy ending and knowing how wasted everything you did in order to preserve it was. It meant nothing and people died because of you. _Tragic_."

"Me and Hook ended. That's all. It happens. And it's none of your business."

"I'm Regina."

"And as you saw a few hours ago, I chose not talk to her about this, either."

"But you will. Eventually. Quietly. In a dark room where the two of you can relate while pretending that you're not connecting in a more spiritual way. You pretend the things you say are ones you would say to anyone else, but they're not. Because we get each other, Swan."

"You, her? Which? Which one of you gets me?"

"I suppose it depends on which side of you we're talking. I certainly understand the Dark Swan side a lot better than she did. Though, I did find the platinum white hair an unfortunate choice."

"Says the woman who doesn't believe in ceilings for her hair," Emma snorts. Then, as if realizing what they're talking about, Emma shakes her head. "In any case, we're not talking about that."

"Your Dark Swan days?"

"We're not talking about _that_ ," Emma says again, vehemently this time.

"Because you're still running away from your choices. But you'll stand here and righteously, like the Charming you are, condemn me for all of mine, won't you?"

"Last night, you murdered ten fairies. The night before that, you killed a woman in an alley."

"She _deserved_ it," the Queen says darkly. "And I don't regret _my_ choice."

"Yeah, well, guess what? You can't go around killing people just for being dicks."

"Yes, I can."

Emma blinks at that. And then chuckles humorlessly because yeah, she should have seen that answer coming. It's easy, she thinks, to forget who and what the Queen is especially with her behind the bars of this cell. Right now, she just seems like a beautiful if exhausted woman with delusions of grandeur.

But she's not, and last night, she had murdered with frightening ease.

"Let me amend: I'm not going to let you do that. No more blood is getting spilled."

"Not until the next time you need to fight for your happy ending. Everyone else be damned."

"Pretty hypocritical for you of all people to be lecturing me, _Your Majesty_ ," Emma tosses back.

"Whatever you say, Miss Swan."

Emma's jaw clenches; the Queen grins.

She says then, her voice cold and brutally vicious in the worst of ways, "As well as you know me, Swan, I know you, too. I understand you. The dark and angry and selfish parts of you. The ones you're trying to deny. The little voice that didn't care when Robin died because you still—"

"No!" Emma cuts in, stepping up to the cell; it's a stupid mistake and the moment that she's there, the Queen's hand snakes out from between the bars and then she's grabbing Emma by the collar and yanking her close, fingers closing around her throat, nails piercing the flesh.

"Under your skin, am I?" the Queen hisses, one of her nails drawing a small bubble of blood.

"You have three seconds to let me go and then I'm going to blast you into that wall over there."

"You really think your magic will work with you up against these bars? Hmm. Maybe it will." The Queen eyes widen maniacally. "Or maybe it won't, and I'll tear out your throat."

"You won't," Emma insists, her own hands coming up to settle against the Queen's. She tries to yank at them, to pull them away from her throat, but the Queen has the leverage point here.

"I'm not her."

"But you love me as much as you hate me," Emma reminds her.

"And now you use that as a weapon against me. How typical of _heroes_."

"Not a weapon," Emma protests, wincing against the nails which are digging in deeper. She can feel the magic in her own fingers, but it's thick and sleepy enough for Emma to guess that the Queen is probably right and her closeness to the restricting barrier will affect her as well.

Which means she needs to talk her way out of this one.

And then go slam her head against the wall about a thousand and five times.

"Oh, but isn't that all that love is? A way to justify heinous things. Your parents kidnapped a child and filled her with darkness in the name of their love for you. You perverted a man's soul and allowed him to murder without consequence all in the name of your _love_ for him. And yet you are standing here and deciding that making those fairies pay for their failures is… evil."

The nails cut in deeper, another tiny bubble of blood forming, and then dripping down.

"You're right," Emma gasps.

"Is this the placating part?" the Queen asks, not bothering to hide her bemusement.

"No. You're right, okay? I was selfish and I did cost everyone. I cost you."

"You did."

"But right now, the person you're costing is your other half."

"And I care about that why? She exiled me."

"Betrayal doesn't stop love."

"Which you're such the expert on," the Queen growls, curling her hand even tighter.

"I'm...not," Emma admits, black dots in front of her eyes. "But I... I know -" she struggles for her words, gasping for enough air to say what she needs to say. "That...that you didn't come out of the shadows just to piss off a few people. Everything you've...done has been for her."

"She still wants me dead," the Queen reminds her, her grip slightly loosening.

"Because she…doesn't…understand yet," Emma wheezes.

"So now you'll bargain for your life with this understanding?"

"Not quite," Emma answers and then she's swinging her body up and kicking out with her foot; it's risky because if she mistimes the move or miscalculates the distance, she's going to end up slamming herself full-force into the bars, and then she's super screwed. Thankfully, Emma is as athletic as she has ever been and the Queen, while wary, isn't suspecting the physicality; her foot connects to the Queen's mid-section through the gap in the bars. With a hiss, she releases Emma's throat and falls backwards, her hand immediately dropping down to her stomach. When the Queen looks up at her, her lip is curled in murderous fury.

"You need Regina," Emma pants, her fingers over her throat, a touch of wetness there. "She needs you. That's the understanding, Your Majesty. We never should have done what we did."

"But you did. And now you're all going to pay for it."

"Yeah," Emma sighs. "I know." And then she's stepping backwards and into the shadows.

She runs her fingers past the small cuts on her throat, healing them up (her stomach clenches, but she ignores this tiny irrelevant bit of pain; it'll pass within a few moments, anyways). Her eyes close as she tries not to think about the Queen's terribly harsh words of accusation.

Words that she just can't shake the truth away from no matter how much she wants to.

Merlin and Robin are dead.

Her presumed happy ending is gone.

The Queen and Regina are in two broken and jagged pieces.

Incomplete no matter how much Regina tries to convince herself otherwise.

Which leaves Emma wondering what any of her choices had meant besides ruin for everyone?

Her head lightly hits the cave wall as she accepts that she just doesn't know.

* * *

With a soft groan and then a sharp hiss as her ribs remind her that they're still quite sore, Regina pushes herself up from her bed, her feet hitting the carpet with a thump. A look over at the clock and she recognizes that it's almost time for Henry to be getting out of school.

Which…gives her an idea.

Because the last few days – the last few weeks, months, pick a timeframe – have been a whirl of madness, and they haven't really had time to talk, and she desperately wants them to.

She slips into the bathroom, turns the shower on, slips her sleeping clothes off and then steps under the water. It feels good against her tired and sore body, and so she tries to ignore the color still spread across her chest. Emma had helped immeasurably, but bones are thick and hard and they tend to heal well only if left to do so in the way which nature naturally intended.

Then again, don't most things tend to do better when left alone?

It makes her think – perhaps unwillingly so – about her other half.

The part of her which is currently locked behind bars.

The part of her which is likely going one-on-one with Emma.

Emma, who she really doesn't want to think about right now.

Emma, who is no longer with Hook.

She groans and curses her own selfish thoughts.

As well as her very poor timing.

Because people are dying (thanks to the Queen) and she's being a terrible friend.

She takes a deep breath and runs her fingers through her hair, the shampoo smearing across her scalp. Her mind is in so much chaos these days, and she's finding grounding harder and harder to achieve. Just thinking about the last few days and the trail of bodies that the Queen had left behind is unsettling. Mostly because, here in the solitude of this shower, she is able to admit to herself that perhaps the Queen had been right and perhaps she's not as sorry about the death of the fairies as she should be. The murder of the girl who had deceived her disturbs her because while she feels anger at what had occurred, she mostly feels humiliation about what she had allowed to happen. It had been her own fault, her own choices and she thinks that she's supposed to own those. But the fairies? All of them had allowed an innocent child to suffer because they had hated the girl's mother. Her mother. Perhaps justice had found them.

But if death and murder are justice, then how can she rationalize her own life? Because their sin had been negligence, but her sins – ones she had stood back and allowed the Queen to commit – had been far more horrific. And if they should die for what they had not done, then why should she (or the Queen) be allowed to live for what they had done? She doesn't know.

The water is hot, the steam is thick, and the thoughts in her head just won't stop spinning.

She closes her eyes, sees blood and smoke and so much destruction.

She shivers and it's still hot water, but she can recall the hard ground beneath her knees.

The Queen had been right, and she hates that.

Because good people don't kill.

Good people don't feel the stickiness of blood on them, and not cringe away from it.

Good people don't inhale the iron of blood and deem it righteous and warranted.

Something is wrong with her.

Even without the Queen, Regina thinks, something is still very wrong with her.

Or not…maybe not, right? She's not new to this world or any other, and sometimes—

No…no.

If she could and even should (and maybe she shouldn't) be forgiven for her sins, then so should the fairies have been, and instead, many of them are dead, their wings forever broken.

And it's her fault, and she's not as upset about it as she should be.

Yes, she thinks, something is definitely disturbingly wrong with her.

* * *

By the time she makes it down the steps, Regina is composed and smiling.

What everyone thinks a carefree and Queen-less Regina Mills should look like.

But Zelena narrows her eyes at her and tilts her head and says, "What are you up to?"

Regina pretends like she doesn't know what her sister is asking, and feels a flush of anger and shame because how can something that is supposed to be about being your best self ever start with denying your intentions? She doesn't know, and her mind is telling her that she's being a fool, and that it's this kind of crazy thinking which had led her into that alley with that woman.

Her mind is insisting she doesn't need to do this because she has people who care for her even as broken and mangled as she currently is. She has Snow and Zelena and Henry and…Emma.

Emma, who had closed down on her when she had reached out to her and tried to be a friend.

It's Emma, and Emma doesn't share hurt any better than she does.

But Emma had asked Regina to share hers and…isn't friendship about sharing everything?

Except Emma knows what she feels now thanks to the Queen and Hook and everyone else, and really who could blame her for not wanting to suggest that there's now an open door there?

Or maybe she'd had other thoughts, and it hadn't been about their relationship at all and—

"Regina?" Zelena reminds her. "Whatever your internal monologue is, it's boring me."

"Sorry," Regina sighs. "And…nothing. I'm…I'm going to go pick up Henry from school."

"He needs picking up?" Zelena asks, her nose wrinkling even as she brings her child to the crook of her arm and gently offers her a bottle. "Isn't he too old for his mommy to pick him up?"

Regina fixes her sister with an annoyed look. "That's not the point. _I_ want to pick him up."

"Oh." There's a pause then, and Zelena frowns. And looks more than a little uncomfortable.

"What is it?" Regina prompts.

"It's…are you all right?"

"You mean my ribs?"

"I mean you. The Queen is making quite the mess of things." She shrugs, then.

"You don't think we ever should have separated." It's a statement not a question.

"I think she's you, and you're her."

"And I'm not me without her." Another statement, this one softer, but no less certain.

"You're my sister," Zelena says, echoing Regina's comment from earlier.

Regina smiles slightly at that, then asks in a soft unsure voice, "Can I tell you something?"

"You wish that you hadn't separated from the Queen," Zelena states, looking her right in the eye, vivid blue on dark brown. "And if you could do it all over again, you wouldn't do it."

"I wouldn't," Regina admits, sounding so very tired.

The memories and the doubts and the wonder about what makes someone good or evil.

"Maybe there's—"

"No," Regina says, and thinks that good people don't willingly return to the darkness. This is it, this is when she's supposed to be making the choices like she had decided to in the shower.

The right choices. Always that.

"Okay," Zelena retreats. Then, before Regina can try to make it better, "It's almost three."

"Henry," Regina murmurs. She steps towards the door.

"Does having dark thoughts doom you to the darkness?" Zelena asks suddenly.

Regina pauses, her hand on the doorknob. "I hope not," she says softly.

"Because love isn't the universal good that everyone likes to sell you on."

"No, it's not," Regina allows, and thinks about just how much her heart always aches. For the ones she's loved and lost and for the ones who could never love her because of what she is.

"Is all killing bad?" It sounds like such an innocent question from such a not innocent person, and because of that, it's just a little bit absurd, but Zelena's eyes are wide and honest, and there's no deception there – just the rawness of a genuine query built on her own darkest fears.

Doubts about the death of a man whom she had loved – a man who had been about to murder the sister who had refused to give up on her – and fears about if even an act done to protect someone in the name of love is a mark against her soul; Regina understands that all too well.

"Who am I to answer that?" Regina asks. "Even without the Queen inside of me, I still have all of my memories, and I still remember everything that has ever been done to me. I remember everything that I've done and every choice I've made. And they all seemed righteous at the time, but… I don't know if there's ever something which balances the scales or makes killing okay. I don't know, Zelena. I just...don't."

"Oh," Zelena says again, and her simple honesty is a comfort and it's not at all one.

They hold for a moment longer like that, just looking at each other, and then Regina turns and leaves, desperately needing to see the one person besides Emma who can always ground her.

Henry.

No matter who or what she is, it will always be Henry.

* * *

"He was here," David says, glancing around Jekyll's abandoned cabin. Tables have been turned over, and there are books on science and math all over the floor. A nearly spent candle is on its side, broken at the top. There's a blanket that's been dragged nearly across the room as well.

"Yes, and someone took him by force," Snow states warily, and bends to touch the floor. There are scuff marks there, like someone – most certainly Jekyll – had tried to use his boots to stop himself from being pulled out. It had been a worthless effort there, and now all there is…is this.

"Could the Queen have gotten to him?"

"Timeline is all wrong," Snow suggests with a shake of her head. "And besides, if she'd done something to him, she would have wanted us to know it." She shivers when she thinks about the broken wings on the ground and David does the same as he thinks about the alley wall.

"Yeah," he agrees, and then keeps looking around. "Snow." Before she can reply, he crosses the cabin in three long strides, and turns around to indicate the wall just behind him. He kneels and points, and it takes Snow a moment to see what he's gesturing at because this particular cabin rather bizarrely has faded yellow wallpaper across almost every wall.

But still, after squinting, she sees it there: glitter.

Or more correctly: fairy dust.

"Blue," she breathes as she runs her fingers across it and then pulls them back so that she can see the dust shimmering at the tips of them. It's dull now, but still unmistakably what it is.

"Why?"

Snow nods, then, seeming to understand. "The Queen killed her people last night."

"And—"

"Blue wants revenge. So she went to the person who understands how the split works."

"Dr. Jekyll." David sighs. "Could he—"

"Help her come up with a way to kill the Queen? Probably. Do it without somehow hurting Regina? I don't know, and I very much doubt that Blue cares one way or another. I don't think she likes the good side of Regina all that much more than she likes the bad side of her." Snow frowns a bit at that, thoughtful, her eyes shimmering with some kind of understanding for just the briefest of moments before the recognition seems to fade away. "We need to find her."

"Blue?" Off Snow's nod. "We could try to summon her, but she's not likely to come."

"No." Snow stands. "We need to warn the others. Somehow, I don't think Blue is going to care who gets caught in the fall out of this. She wants revenge for what happened last night, and if Emma or Regina stand in her way by trying to protect the Queen, well, that's probably just the price they'll pay. She might be loyal to us—" Snow stops and laughs and it sounds strangled because suddenly she's thinking about Regina's words about wishes not answered and she's thinking about how the fairies joined in a war that they were supposed to be neutral about.

"Snow?"

"Someone is going to get hurt," she tells him, solemn and certain.

"I'll call Emma and give her a heads up," he replies, his brow furrowed.

No doubt wondering why it's always his family that keeps getting hurt.

But his wife is looking at him and he sees and knows her eyes, and she's telling him that that family includes Regina – maybe every part of her – and that means they protect their family.

He picks up his phone and taps Emma's name.

* * *

The sound – a country ballad about simple love which fits her father perhaps a little bit too well – brings Emma out of her staring stupor. For the last two hours, she's been sitting on this perch (as Regina had the previous night, but Emma doesn't know that) just looking at the far wall.

Deep in thought.

Thinking about everything.

A sacrifice made to protect a friend who has still been shattered by the aftershocks of the darkness, and a choice made to keep a now-lost lover who had never wanted her to save him.

And where they all are now.

The Queen…isn't wrong, and she hates that.

She hates that, but it's the truth and—

"Emma?"

"Dad," she says breathlessly, startled out of her own thoughts. Her eyes flicker across the room over to where the Queen is. No longer standing as she had been for so many hours, the older woman is now crouched down in a position which looks almost unbearably uncomfortable. Her hands are gripping the bars in front of her, and her head is bowed down low. There's no chance she could be sleeping, Emma thinks. Not in that strange and decidedly awkward position.

Standing up, Emma moves slightly towards her, staying just within the shadows. On a whim – and she's really not sure why she does it – she holds out the phone and puts it on speaker.

"Hey," David says. "We have a problem."

"When don't we?" Emma asks wryly.

"Jekyll is missing. And we're pretty sure Blue took him."

"Do I even want to guess why the Blue Fairy kidnapped Dr. Jekyll?" Emma asks in exasperation, overcome by a wave of the old disbelief that had been a constant for her so many years ago.

"The bitch is hoping the idiot doctor will know a way to kill me," the Queen growls out from where she's still crouched. Her head is still lowered, and she hasn't yet made a move to stand.

"That's what we're thinking," David states, having clearly heard the Queen's reply.

"Wonderful. Do we have a plan?"

"Not yet. We're trying to get ahold of Regina, but she went to pick up Henry. We'll talk to her and come by there; I think we all need to get on the same page as to how we're fighting this."

"That sounds ominous," Emma notes, her eyes still on the crouched down Queen.

"I think this is all pretty ominous," David admits.

"Yeah. Okay. Well, you know where I am and…Blue isn't getting past me."

The Queen makes a loud snorting noise which Emma pretends to ignore.

"Be careful," David urges. "This just got—"

"Serious?" Emma challenges. "It wasn't before?"

"I was about to say messy, but I guess it was that already, too."

"Yeah," Emma sighs, a hand through her hair. Then, lowering her voice (though she knows that it's probably pointless to do so; the Queen appears to have Vulcan like hearing), she says, "Hey, if I know Regina, when she hears this, she's gonna start getting a bit crazy and sacrificial."

"And you idiots think she doesn't need me," the Queen mutters.

"Your mom will take care of her," David promises. "We won't let her do anything stupid."

Emma smiles slightly, thinly, thinking about a woman who would argue that assessment of her actions rather vehemently. When she looks up, she sees the Queen staring at her. Knowingly.

She clears her throat, "I'll see you in a bit."

"Yeah. Eyes up."

"Always," she tells him, and doesn't remind him that she's been eyes-up her entire life.

She pockets her phone and walks towards the Queen.

"Is this where you tell me that you were right and that I endangered poor Regina with my actions?"

"You know that you have."

"Well, then, Savior, I suppose that makes two of us."

Emma just stares at her, and the Queen stares back.

Challenging, always challenging.

Finally, Emma sighs, then leans down, and picks up the box of doughnuts with the half-eaten fritter still in it (there's a maple bar as well). She looks at it for a long moment, and then drops it back down and with her foot, pushes it in through the bars. "You need to eat," she mutters.

"Still trying—"

"Always," Emma interrupts. And swallows.

The Queen tilts her head, eyes narrowing in thought.

Curiously, though, she says nothing else.

Just picks up the box and opens it, daintily taking out the remaining half of the fritter.

Emma thinks to let out a breath in relief, but doesn't.

Because her shoulders are still tight, and her nerves are still frayed.

And she's dead certain that something very bad is about to happen.

Something which will, once again, change everything for all of them.

* * *

Her hand is curled around his, their fingers lightly intertwined, and for a brief time, they're just walking down the street together in perfect silence, both of them enjoying the coolness of the afternoon. He's suspicious, of course, about why she's here because he's entirely too old for his mother to be picking him up from school. And yet, even with the whole town on edge about her once again, there she had been as he'd walked out of the building. He'd smiled at her and waved. She'd returned the gesture and crossed over to him, wrapping him up into a massive warm hug.

That had been ten minutes ago, and she hasn't said a word to him since.

So finally, on a quiet street five blocks from their house, Henry asks, "Mom? What's wrong?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you come pick me up today?"

"Can't I want to spend time with my son?" she asks, an eyebrow slightly up.

"Of course. And...I'm glad that you're here. You know I am, but Mom,what's up?"

"Always so bright." She turns to him, then, her hand going to his chin. He's too old and too tall now for her to need to lean down, but still she finds his eyes when she speaks, insisting on speaking to her son and not above or around him. "I thought we should talk about why you have scrapes on your knuckles." And before he can think to protest, she's holding up his hand and showing it off. "I know that you hit someone because they...said something."

"They insulted you."

"People do that all the time. It's not like I haven't earned much of it."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"Henry."

"Mom."

She tilts her head at him, giving him that look which tells him that she's not going to let him just push her off her on this. She can't afford to. "Tell me what happened? Tell me why you did it."

"I don't want to."

"Why?" Regina asks in confusion, her brow furrowing. She wasn't sure what exactly she had been expecting as an answer, but that hadn't been it. Is he embarrassed, she wonders?

"Because I don't want to tell you what he said about you."

"Oh," she says with a nod of understanding. "But it's okay, sweetheart. I promise you that I can handle it. What I can't handle is my little boy hurting himself on my behalf. I can't."

"I'm not a little boy, anymore," he reminds her. "I'm your son. And it's my job to—"

"No, it's not. It's never your job to protect me." Her hand moves up to push wild brown hair away from his brow. "I've been alive for a very long time, and I have survived a lot."

"I know," he says. "But—"

"I can survive whatever comes out. Whatever it is. Tell me what happened."

"Mom."

"It's okay."

"It's not." He shakes his head. "He…he called you a…" his face screws up into an expression of misery, and she thinks to stop him because she can't stand seeing the expression on his face. But then he's speaking again, and his voice is soft as he says, "He called you a whore."

Her eyes close, and she thinks if a heart could actually crash and fall, hers would be. She inhales sharply, trying to bury the sparks of humiliation and shame which are going off inside of her.

"He said that word around was that—"

She shakes her head. "I know what happened," she tells him, opening her eyes again. She wishes she could have done it without the tears in her eyes, but there are things that no parent wants their child to ever hear about them – much less think about them. It's a word that has seldom been used against her (much uglier ones have been, but rarely that one because she's always been very careful about keeping her sexual relationships behind closed doors – or at least she had been until she'd told herself that this kind of thing is what normal people do). It stings all the same, though, and seeing the way his eyes are blown wide with worry aches.

"I couldn't let him talk about you that way," Henry says softly.

"Henry—"

"I know you're…off balance right now. I know you don't feel like yourself. I don't care. You're still my mother, and I love you, and I am not going to let anyone talk about you like that."

"How touching," they both hear from their side. The voice is deep and rich and it sends a cold chill up both of their spines because it belongs to a man who they had believed to be dead.

But as it turns out, evil doesn't want to stay dead and buried these days.

"Hyde," Regina growls, snapping around and stepping in front of Henry in the same motion.

"Regina," he purrs. "And young Henry. We meet again. Are you figuring out yet that darkness can't ever be truly destroyed? That neither I nor your more powerful half can ever truly be destroyed?" He pats his chest, his hand over the wound which had once been there – a gaping hideously smoking wound which she and Emma had put there. "It was a valiant attempt."

"I have a few more of those in me," Regina promises him, her voice an angry threatening sneer. She feels Henry's hand twitch beneath her hold, her fingers wrapped around his wrist. With her other hand, she tries to call up her magic. It responds quickly, making her palm glow white.

Hyde laughs. "Still haven't figured out how to properly use your dark magic, have you?"

"I have enough to be able to take you out should you decide not to turn and walk away."

"Oh, that's not going to happen. You and I, Regina, we're going to spend some time together."

He snaps his fingers and there's a burst of gray smoke and two men are suddenly appearing there. Regina recognizes them immediately as regular citizens of Storybrooke – one works at the coffee shop in the lobby of City Hall, and the other took over for David at the pet shelter.

Neither seems to have a clue who they are or who she is by the way they look at her.

"Some…new friends I made along the way," Hyde notes.

"What have you done to them?"

"Oh, not me. I had some help. Someone who dislikes you…immensely."

"Mom."

She tightens her hold again, shifting her body just a little more in front of him. "That's a very long list," Regina tells him. "Be more specific. I want to ensure I destroy the right person."

"You? Destroy anyone. Amusing." He nods to the men. "Take her. The boy is irrelevant."

"Stay back," she orders Henry. And then she's pulling her hand away from him, and she's commanding fire into her palms. It hurts almost immediately, and she tries not to think about the training which had led her to viewing fire and power as a form of immense evil. She tries to tell herself that this is protection and not vengeance and that she's not doing anything more or different than she had been doing when she'd had the Queen inside of her. But she is different, and the mindset which had allowed her to come to terms with protect at all cost is in turmoil.

 _She_ is in turmoil.

Still, the fire grows in her palm and she throws it and throws it, each hurl making her see black dots. They dance and they weave and she tries to focus on Henry's breathing behind her.

One of the fireballs slams into the chest of the man who has for the last several years served her coffee every single morning, a soft smile on his lips. His name is Hank and he has two children, and even after the curse had broken, he'd smiled at her when he'd handed her a cup.

Her stomach rolls as she thinks about this and the fire collapses in her palm as he falls.

"Mom!"

It's Henry's frantic cry which gets her to push forward again, her eyes darkening and her jaw setting as Hyde forces Hank back up even though his chest is burnt and he's smoldering. The other man – she doesn't know his name – flanks to the other side, his eyes vacant and cold.

"Bring me her," Hyde says again. "And you know what? Kill the boy for her insolence."

"Don't you dare," Regina growls, and throws another fireball; it hits Hank square in the face.

He screams and she thinks of his little girl with her soft brown eyes and her happy demeanor. Regina hurts for what she's doing to him, and tries to tell herself that she will stop before she can't.

But he keeps coming, and she realizes that fire won't be enough to prevent his attacks.

She needs more; she's going to have to find more.

She digs down deeper, thinks about the darker kinds of magic – the deadly types. The ones which she'd never wanted to touch again. Bile rises up in her throat, but she reaches out for it.

Understanding what she will have to do to make this end.

There's a bright pop behind her eyes. And oh God, so much pain.

But Henry is whispering for her again, his voice frantic and so very afraid so she pushes against the pain and the fear, and she shoves down deep inside of her and keeps yanking and pulling.

She feels her knees weaken even as her hands start to glow bright red and gold, a strange searing darkness at the middle of her violent magic. It tears at her, and there's pain in the middle of her chest, near her heart. She feels intense pressure in her head and her vision blurs.

"You can't do it," Hyde notes, smiling even as he becomes fuzzy and indistinct. "You can't kill."

"Henry, run," she gasps as she falls, the shadows falling over her like a thick blanket. She hits the ground hard, her limbs twisting under her, and her face scraping against the pavement as she twitches beneath the force of the raw dark energy which is still tearing through her body.

"Well," Hyde says, his voice deep and searing, his malevolent eyes bemused. "Now that that silliness is over with." He waves his hand forward, the motion caught just between slightly bored and outright disrespectful. "Lift her gently," he tells the man from the shelter. "We wouldn't want Regina hurt before it's time for that, now would we?"

Henry scrambles forward without even thinking, shoving himself in front of his mother's unconscious form. He can see blood leaking down from her nose, and from a cut on her face.

His strong mother who hurts so much but never stops fighting can't fight for herself right now.

So he'll do it for her.

"Boy," Hyde commands with a patronizing smirk, "I would step out of the way. We will be taking…well not the Queen, one way or another. And really, I care not a bit how you fare."

Henry lifts his chin, his eyes defiant. His mother had told him not to fight her battles – to remember how much she had survived and how much she could survive. And he does – he does – but right now, it's only him between her and Hyde. So he shakes his head, and says, "No."

"No," Hyde repeats, nodding his head. Then, to poor unaware Hank, who is standing once again, his face and torso a mess of blood and burns, his damaged body seeming to crumble inwards as he awkwardly stumbles forward like a puppet held up by strings. "Break him."

It's said in the same kind of voice that someone might use to order a pizza, but Hyde's eyes are cruel and he leaves no doubt as to his order or his intent. Henry coils against his mother, a hand rested on her. He whispers for her, pleads for her to wake, but wonders if it would matter.

She can't do the kind of magic needed to stop Hyde.

He whispers, "It's okay, Mom, it's okay. We're going to be okay."

Because he knows how badly she'll take all of this when she wakes up. He knows that she will blame herself for this, and never forgive herself, and suddenly he can't stand that thought.

"No," Hyde says with a smirk. "I don't think any of you will be."

Henry says Emma's name, but she's no longer the Dark One, and can't hear that call, anymore.

Hank's hand grips his shoulder, and he struggles, falling back and into his mother's form. That's when he sees the blood coming out of her ears as well, a sign of the immense pressure which she'd put herself under in order to pull the magic out. He calls out for her even as Hank lifts him up and then he screams as his left arm is jerked to the side, a loud cracking noise sounding.

Henry's been injured before – he's fallen and he's nearly died. He's had his heart taken from his chest, and he's been under a sleeping curse, but no one has ever _dared_ to hurt him like this.

His arm snaps like a dry twig, and he folds forward, but still one hand stays on his mother. Still, he tries to keep himself over her even as tears flood his eyes. "That's enough," Hyde says, and for a moment, Henry thinks that he's speaking to Hank, but he's talking to the other man, and he's telling him that he's done with this game. Henry feels himself get dragged away, his fingers gripping against the cement. His mother's shirt tears loudly as he tries to keep a hold on her.

And then a boot settles over his chest. He looks up at Hyde, tears in his eyes, and his nose running. Blood drips from a cut just below his eye. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you," Henry says.

"You are the Queen's son, after all," he notes. "How delightful."

"I am," Henry tells him, his voice rough and cracking. "And I'm Regina's, too."

"Well, that's a pity. A pity that this… _weakness_ will be your last memory of… _Regina_." He turns to the two men. "Take her. I'll be along in a moment." He turns his back on them, not bothering to watch as they lift Regina's unconscious body up, Hank holding her to his hurt chest. But Henry – even through his pain – does; he sees them move her towards the trees and into the forest.

"Are you going to kill me?" Henry grinds out once the men have disappeared.

"I thought to, but that would be a terrible waste of resources," Hyde replies. "And I am curious as to whether you can hold to your vow. Could you avenge your mother?" He shrugs. "That's for later, I suppose. For now, you live. Because you're the message, and a message is always more useful when it can tell the whole story with all of the emotions. So promise me, Henry. Promise me you'll do that?" He smiles like a grandfather might, but his eyes remain cruel.

"We'll stop you," Henry announces.

"Because good always win?" Hyde mocks.

"Because my _family_ does."

"We shall see." And then he lifts his foot and slams his boot down into Henry's face, a loud crack sounding as the rubber of his sole connects with Henry's nose. He watches, then, as the boy's hand – the one which had been reaching out for his mother – falls to the ground limply.

"A pity, indeed," Hyde murmurs, and then walks away.

His boots leaving a trail of fairy dust in their wake.

 **TBC :D**


	8. Eight

**A/N:** So...life caught up a bit and I got behind and now I'm not. But...we're almost there. Two more chapters. Thanks for still reading if you are.

 **Warnings** : Considerable violence, language, mentions of depression, child abuse and self harm.

* * *

It's the ice-cold water being poured over her feverish skin that brings Regina to her waking senses with a violent shudder. Before she even really knows what's happening, she finds herself pitching forward, and then she's vomiting onto his feet, her stomach rejecting the tiny bit of food that she'd managed to consume earlier that day. Just barely aware of his presence (and his accompanying unimpressed gaze, his eyes intense and thoughtful as he studies her coldly) she gags a few more times, and coughs, her eyes screwed shut as waves of pain rush through her.

"Welcome back," Hyde says, his voice typically deep as he leans in towards her and places one of his fingers under her chin. Normally, she'd reject his touch, but she's far too exhausted and worn out to do much more besides look up at him in anger.

It's then that she spots the two bodies on the ground – the destroyed forms of the two men whom Hyde had forced to do his dirty work for him. Two men who had been good and kind, and had paid for her sins with their lives. She allows herself a moment of grief for them, a moment of deep remorse, and then pushes past it knowing that any kind of wasted emotion right now will merely be used against her.

There will be time to write new names in the ledger when this is all over.

Assuming she's alive enough to hold a pen when it is.

"My son," Regina demands, finally managing to find the strength to pull away from his touch, pain bouncing through her as she jerks backwards. "If you –"

"Be calm," he insists. "The boy is fine. He's in a warm and comfortable hospital bed right at this moment, likely with his _mother_ –"Hyde chuckles darkly at this, as if knowing that these words will hurt her – "Hovering over him and trying so hard to protect him. He will see the sun come up tomorrow." Hyde smiles, then, as if suddenly sensing something nearby.

No, not something – _someone_.

"But you might not," another voice says and then there's the tight clip of heels as Blue walks her way across the wooden planks of the little room that they're in (Regina's bloodshot eyes cast around, and she takes in the tight quarters and decides that they must be in a cabin somewhere deep in the middle of the woods) and stops in front of Regina, her head held up high as she imperiously gazes down.

"I should have known that you'd be the moron behind this little stunt. Gods forbid that you actually take care of your people instead of looking to throw your weight and power around," Regina growls out, sounding far stronger than she feels.

Blue smiles coldly at that, the truth of Regina's words glancing off of her, her righteous hatred far superior in this moment. "You would know. _Your Majesty_."

"I would," Regina agrees. "But you've gone too far this time."

" _I've_ gone too far? Me?" Blue laughs, the sound like an obnoxious twinkling bell, each piece of it as terrible as glass shattering. "Your entire existence from its miserable beginning to its pathetic end has been a step too far."

"Perhaps so, and if you want to kill me, fine, then let's just get it over with, but my son is not responsible for my sins – or hers," Regina insists, her jaw clenching as she fights against a fresh desire to vomit. While there's a strange thrill to the idea of throwing up on Blue, she knows that the furious fairy would most certainly retaliate.

"Oh, but he is. All of them are. Snow White, your son. The _Savior_. Though it makes no sense to anyone who isn't compromised by human emotions, they _love_ you which means they love her as well. Inexplicably, they welcome all of you," Blue sneers at her. "You, an irredeemable monster who has never brought anything but misery and pain and death to those around you. Anyone who loves you is responsible, and that means they are as guilty as you are. That means they should suffer just as much."

Regina swallows hard, shame flushing through her. She shifts and groans, her body shuddering beneath the weight of her recent dark magic use. She can feel the heat rising through her, blistering her skin and blurring her vision. It's taking everything she has to stay conscious, and she knows eventually she will lose.

These days, all she does is lose.

But for now, she fights back even if only through her words. Lolling her head to the side, even that motion agonizing and nearly blinding, Regina stares up at Hyde. "I know the fairy bitch's reason for doing all of this, but I don't understand yours, Mr. Hyde," Regina says to him, her voice raspy and breaking. "She's a self-deluded twit intent on killing anyone who she perceives as a threat to her. She couches it in moral superiority and the pretense of care about her sanctimonious 'people', but it's mostly just her being a crazed power hungry lunatic. But, you, well, you're a sociopathic bastard who enjoys killing people, and you don't like being told what to do. So why are you letting her yank you around by the balls?" She smiles as cruelly as she can manage, the dried blood under her nose cracking. "What are you getting out of this arrangement? Because we both know that it's nothing actually… _good_."

"Crass," Blue snarls. "Why am I not surprised that the reprehensible beast who used her sexuality as a weapon and who murdered her loving husband –"

Regina cuts her off by spitting at her.

Which gets her struck across the face in response, sharp nails cutting into her skin.

"You forget yourself," Blue growls, reaching out a hand to grab Regina's hair so that she can yank her head forward in a show of violent domination. "You might believe that you are strong right now – you might think you're achieving something with this defiance - but you're not. You're no longer a threat to anyone. Least of all me."

"Still pissy that you have glitter up your ass, but I'm still the one with the power?"

"You think you have power?" Blue contests. "Very well, then. Let's test that theory." Then, turning to her glowering companion, she says smugly, "Break her, Mr. Hyde."

He smirks, drops his head forward in a show of careful, but staged acquiescence and replies, "With pleasure." He turns his attention to Regina, then, and says, "I should warn you, Regina, this is going to hurt you far more than it's going to hurt me."

* * *

"Would you stop the whole pacing thing, please?" Emma asks, and it seems an odd question considering how much the Queen has prowled around the confines of her cell since she was put into it a day ago, but there's something unsettling about the way that she's been stalking back and forth for the last hour or so.

Something, which is setting Emma on edge.

Right after the call with her father had ended, the Queen had seemed annoyed, but not necessarily upset. She'd even consumed a couple more doughnuts before shoving them away and reminding Emma about her horrendous eating habits. As the minutes had passed, though, and there'd been no contact from David or Snow, the Queen had grown anxious and angry, and her steps had become aggressive.

It's an interesting reminder that beneath all of the murderous bravado, the Queen still harbors intense affection for her other half. And, of course, for their son.

"Something is wrong," the Queen shoots back, wiping a hand past her face. She looks down at her fingers afterwards, almost like she's expecting there to be blood there.

"What is it?" Emma prompts.

"Nothing. But I'm right –"

"Maybe you are, maybe you aren't," Emma answers. She frowns as she tries to ignore the fear, which is starting to creep through her. "We need to just wait and –"

"Your idiot father should have updated us by now."

"He'll contact us as soon as he finds them –"

"If they've been hurt, and we've been here twiddling ourselves like your worthless parents and their sycophant supporters, I promise you, Swan, I will make this town burn to the ground before I am finished making those responsible for this pay," the Queen hisses in response, her panic causing her to look like gone completely mad.

More than usual, anyway.

Emma is about to reply – about to try to reassure the Queen again (and plead for some degree of calm) when the ringing of her cell fills the rocky cavern. Ignoring the sudden gnawing worry that's working its way through her, Emma tilts her head at the Queen – as if to say "see" – and then answers it, putting it on speaker. "Dad?"

"We have a problem," David says, his breathing labored, his words heavy.

"What kind of problem?" the Queen demands, hands clenching around the bars, the grip hard enough to bend metal were it not for the now spastically pulsating pixie dust, which – considering how upset and hyper emotional she has suddenly become - is thankfully keeping the Queen from being able to utilize her simmering magic.

"Dad?" Emma prompts, glancing over at the Queen. Her own heart is pounding in her chest, but the waves of raw emotion flowing off the other woman are terrifying.

"We found Henry," he says, his voice solemn. "He's all…he's okay, but he needs you."

She turns towards the Queen, and points at her, her own green eyes snapping with intensity as she tries to control her fear. "If you hurt yourself trying to get out of that cell, you'll do neither one of them any good." Then to her father, "Where are you?"

"We're at the hospital. They're taking him into surgery now."

"Surgery?" she repeats, and then winces when she hears the popping of the pixie dust against the Queen's magic – two opposing forces now in a desperate battle.

She has little doubt that the Queen and all of her fury will find a way to win.

"Emma, he's going to be all right, but he's going to need his mom."

"Dad –" Emma starts, eyes wide as the implication of his words hit hard; if he needs his mom, that means that his mom isn't already there, which means that -

"Where's Regina?" the Queen demands, her voice booming in the cavern.

There's a pause, and then David admits, "We don't know. But –"

"But what?" Emma asks, ice water running through her. She looks over at the Queen and sees her emotions mirrored there, and perhaps that's the biggest surprise of all. Not that the Queen cares – one would have to be an absolute fool at this point not to realize that almost everything she has ever done has been for Regina, no matter how twisted and deranged the results have been – but that her fear is quite so apparent.

She's not hiding her emotions and she's not throwing up shields right now.

This is the Queen raw, and perhaps it's more frightening than the Queen unhinged.

"There was a lot of blood where…where we found Henry. It wasn't all his."

"All?" the Queen repeats, nostrils flaring. "My son was bleeding?" She blinks as if forcing control back on herself, and then looks right at Emma. "Swan –"

Emma puts up her hand. "Dad, we're on our way."

"We?"

"We." She hangs up the phone and then looks right at the Queen. She holds up a hand, magic glittering off the tips of her fingers. "You make me regret this –"

"My son –"

" _Our_ son. Shared three ways."

"Worry about custody later. Henry is in danger."

"I don't think he's the one in danger. Not immediately," Emma says cautiously.

"Regina." The Queen scowls as this reality seems to land on her, a dozen desperate emotions rapidly flashing through her dark eyes, confusing both women a little bit.

"She's what?" Emma prompts, stepping closer to the cell. "Is Regina alive?"

"How would I –"

"You would know," Emma says confidently. "You know that you would. Earlier, you acted like you thought you were hurt – was that, was that you feeling something?"

"I have no idea what that was." Her head cocks to the side. "What about you? Would you know if Regina were hurt?" the Queen challenges, hands on the bars again.

"I don't know," Emma answers. "But two things I do know: no one is closer to her than you are, whether either one of you wants to believe it or not, you are each other's literal half and I think right now you need each other more than ever."

"I accepted that a long time ago."

"Yeah – she's kind of stubborn like that. Which brings me to my second point: she's not going out…like this. Not without a fight. And not without all of us seeing it."

The Queen nods, her chin lifting, a kind of twisted hope in her eyes. "She's alive."

"You believe or you know?"

"I know."

"Okay," Emma agrees. "Then you're going to help me find her." She flings her hands towards the door of the cell and magic erupts from her fingers, slamming into the lock at the front of it. The dust around it reacts badly, rushing out to protect itself from the onslaught, but then the Queen is forcing her own magic out of her, and that's more than enough to cause the lock bend to melt and then the door to shatter.

"No, you're going to help me." The Queen smiles, then, cruelly and darkly, standing in the shadowed doorway of the now open cell. She tilts her head almost curiously for a moment and gazes at Emma and then back at the shattered door, "Oh, look at that, turns out that we're better together as well. Interesting." She steps forward and moves past Emma, stopped only by a hand catching her elbow and turning her back around. She looks down at the grip with a sneer. "You dare to manhandle me?"

"You know that I do. I let you free because people we both…care about."

" _Love_ ," the Queen snaps back. "Face your feelings, Swan. For once."

Emma glares at her. "Need us. Which means I need you to be under control."

"What you need is for me to lose control and do what you can't do."

"Which won't get us anywhere close to Regina. Who I'm guessing probably needs both of us right about now. Just as _our_ son does. So maybe you stow the attitude, and the high and mighty crazy, and work with me. Or don't and we _both_ lose her."

Their eyes meet, and for a moment, Emma is sure that the Queen is going to continue to argue with her, but then the woman nods her head almost imperiously.

"Very well," she declares. "I want to see…" her teeth grit. The motion is clearly enough to remind her of her previous concussion – an injury that had not properly healed thanks to the Queen's stubbornness and Emma's caution. " _Our_ son."

"You really are the part of her that cooked up the poisoned apple turnover, aren't you?" Emma asks wryly, her question equal parts irritation and idle curiosity.

The Queen just smiles coldly. "We have places to be," she says, and then she's reaching for Emma's hand, and there's an intense flush of warmth as smoke covers up both of them, her magic transporting both of them all the way across town.

As the mine disappears from her vision, Emma wonders if she's just made a terrible mistake in letting the Queen free, and realizes that she doesn't overly care if she has.

Anything she has to do to protect Henry and Regina, well that's something she'll do.

* * *

She rolls her head to the side, and looks up at Hyde, her view of him shadowed by her badly swollen eyes. She coughs, and blood sprays from both her mouth and nose. Were she not tied to a chair, she might even care about the mess. "Is there a point to this?" she asks, though she thinks the words come out garbled. Her entire body aches from the many places she's been struck, but it's the intense pressure in her head – a parting gift of how ill suited her body is to using dark magic these days – which is almost too much for her. It's that pressure which keeps pushing her right to the edge of consciousness with each ragged breath she pulls into her lungs.

"Of course," he insists. "The point is shattering you. Breaking you down into little shards of glass and then scattering what's left of you to the winds." He chuckles at that, like he's amused by his own half-baked poetry. "Or perhaps, it's just seeing you scream. That's quite the pleasure, too." His fingers graze past one of the bloody cuts on her face, a slender but deep slice right into the ridge of her right cheekbone.

"To what end?" she asks, blinking rapidly to try to get some degree of control on her swimming vision and aching head. "Why not just kill me and be done with it? The reason you're alive, I assume, is because Jekyll – the original model - isn't dead. Fine, then end me and you end her as well, right? Why play these idiotic games?"

"For such a smart woman, you still don't actually understand the rules that we're all playing under, do you, Regina?" Hyde chides, seeming almost exasperated by having to explain the so-called rules. "The Queen is not a derivative of you – she's a critical part of your whole and neither one of you can perish while the other one lives. I live not just because Jekyll lives, but because he needs me. That's…our terrible reality."

"How Harry Potter like," she grouses, earning her a confused frown. "I'm guessing he's not one of the untold stories." She sighs. "So all of this –"She looks over his shoulder and over towards where Blue is standing, a scowl stamped on her face.

"This is all to bring the Queen here so that you can kill both of us at the same time?"

"She is sharp," Hyde chuckles.

"Not terribly," Blue retorts. "But yes, I'm going to end you. _All_ of you."

"Will you put me into an eternal sleep with your incessant shrill whining?"

"I'm not going to rise to your bait again," Blue says in a mock pleasant voice. "It's over for you. When your other half arrives, I'll let you say goodbye and then –" She holds up a glittering blade. "Old magic," she muses. "Very old." A cold smile crosses her face. "I understand that your former lover had his soul eradicated. Poetic. Even more so when you realize that I'll use this to destroy you and… _everyone_ you love."

Regina jerks in her chair, but the binds hold her. Her eyes glitter up to the knife, and it's a bit like déjà vu only the last time someone was holding a weird phallus shaped object, it'd been used to take Robin's life. This time, there's no one standing between her and the total annihilation of her soul except for – perhaps – her other half.

Or Emma Swan, she thinks, and immediately winces.

Because the only way the Queen gets here is if Emma lets her out so they can find her. Which surely, Blue knows. Surely, that's the _everyone_ she'd been referencing.

Which means that both of them are walking into a trap.

The reality that she's going to – in spite of all of her attempts to do exactly the opposite – bring about the ruin of her entire family hits her like a brick to the face.

Regina's shoulders sag. "What do you want from me?"

Hyde's eyes narrow. "So easily?" he queries. "Doubtful."

"You think her surrender is an act," Blue muses. "I would agree." She steps closer, and then reaches out and places a finger just beneath Regina's jaw. "I have known you a very long time, little girl, and I have never seen you accept your limitations."

"Who said anything about limitations; I just want to know what your long-winded plan is. I want to know what you plan to do to my family so I can figure out how to take your pathetic little plan and ram it up your ass with the point of my boot."

"You've been keeping far too much time with Savior," Blue observes. "Such crude language – your mother would be so disappointed. But I'm sure that's hardly new."

"No, it's not," Regina concedes, jerking her head away. It's a painful bit of movement, and almost immediately, her stomach rolls. The last several weeks have put her body under massive physical stress, but the last few hours have been especially bad.

Dark magic works poorly within a cleansed soul.

That sounds like a good thing except for the fact that one can't live clean. No, life, Regina is finally accepting, is far too dirty to wash your hands entirely of the dark.

Shame, then, that she thinks this lesson will be one of her last ones learned.

Ah, but if it is, at least she plans to put up a fight and not go down without some swings. If this is the end of her – if Blue and Hyde win and she and the Queen lose and there's nothing but dirt and grass above her – well, then she's going to at least make sure that some of these people remember that she was here to begin with.

Staring up at Blue now, Regina vows that even if it costs her life, she will do whatever it takes to protect the people she loves from these two. Even if this all ends up with her and the Queen lost to time, she'll find a way to save her entire family.

Unfortunately, Blue seems to know exactly what she's thinking. "Oh, so much fight. But you've lost, Regina," Blue reminds her. "You've lost, and when this is all over, I'll make sure that you're not remembered for anything more than the true monster that you are." She leans in close enough for Regina to actually be able to smell the overpoweringly sweet scent of her fairy magic. "When you're dead and buried, I'll wipe everyone's memories of these last few 'redemptive' years – I'll remove the sickening delusion that has settled on these simple people thanks to _Emma Swan_ – and all they will know of you is that you were the Evil Queen, and they'll hate you."

Regina's eyes close for a moment, the pain she feels in her skin nothing to that which she feels in her heart. But then she's opening her eyes again and looking up at Blue. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you'll realize that underestimating me again is a bad idea."

"I like her," Hyde notes, intrigued malice in his tone.

Blue's jaw twitches. "I don't. What you see, Mr. Hyde, as admirable attitude, I see as deflection for her crimes." She looks right back at Regina, her nostrils flaring with righteous indignant rage. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy throwing dirt on your face."

"Maybe, but even then, I promise you that I'll still be a pain in the ass to you. I promise you that even when I'm dead and buried, I'll still find a way to haunt you."

Her defiance – not exactly wise, but certainly intentional – earns her a slap across the face from the enraged fairy. "You joke with so much blood on your hands."

"I would think that would make you and me kindred, Fairy," Regina challenges. "But I suppose the difference between the two of us is that I know who I've been."

"And yet you ripped yourself down the middle to hide from your sins," she snarls, stepping back to allow Hyde to reach forward and grab Regina, his hands strong and cruel against her face as he squeezes. She cries out against the pain, blood spurting out of her nose as the pressure become intense. When he releases, there are massive discolorations against her skin, giant welts mixed with the deep grooves of his nails.

"I did," Regina murmurs after a moment, her head falling backwards. She knows that she should have just stayed quiet, bought herself some time, but she's tired and so sick of these two and their games. Death would be a mercy, but it won't ever be hers. "I did, and this is where I am." It's an admission, and a soft one more to herself than to them, but it feels like maybe she's come to the end of the road of running away.

It seems to her that maybe it's time to account for the destruction she's done.

To others and to herself.

"And because of that, you can't stop us," Hyde reminds her. "Your magic is maimed – a weak pathetic ghost within your useless husk of a body. If your son were bleeding to death in front of you, you wouldn't even be able to stop him from dying without causing yourself significant and likely fatal damage because you're broken. Which, I do believe, is what we saw out on the street." He glances over at the bodies on the ground and shakes his head in a show of mock disappointment. "What a tragic end for a woman who used to be…so impressive. What a pathetic… _mewling_ finish."

"You're so…so wrong," Regina says, blinking slowly. "I'd give my life a thousand times over for my son. For any of them. If that's pathetic, then yes, I'm pathetic."

"You think you're so brave throwing yourself down for them. For the bastard child, for the woman you think could ever return your feelings," Blue smirks coldly when she says this. "For Snow White, the enemy you destroyed countless lives for and for the Queen. Oh, but we're going to put your willingness to die to the test. Because we both know that they will come – your other half and our dear Savior. To their ends."

"You wouldn't dare touch her. The town might overlook you killing me, but they would rip you apart at the seams…she means something to them. She's their –"

"Yes, she's their Hero. What a joke considering the…sickening relationship she has with you. Removing her from this town would be a gift to them, but you're right: they wouldn't see it as I do. Well, then you won't be the only one they forget about."

And then, with a smile, which sends a chill running up Regina's spine, Blue turns sharply around and exits the little dirty cabin, leaving Regina with Hyde.

* * *

The doors to the hospital fly open, cracking on their hinges as the Queen strides through them, her eyes blazing with anger. Emma had tried to convince her to wear a magic resistance cuff; but the Queen had merely laughed at her, and told her that in the future, she should attempt to make such a deal before all leverage had been lost to her. Reluctantly, Emma had been forced to agree; the moment she'd freed the Queen from her cell, any chance of negotiating a controlled release had gone to shit.

A problem, certainly, considering the Queen's murderous track record and her scorching hot rage, but Emma finds herself not as apologetic as she probably should be about this whole situation. Because they're here at the hospital thanks to Henry having been hurt, and she really has no interest in holding back anyone – including, or perhaps especially the Queen - if it means protecting Henry from further harm.

And that doesn't even scratch the Regina issue. Not by a long shot.

"Where's my son?" the Queen growls as she seems to glide across the floor, her strides unnaturally long and powerful. She looks over and sees a young male nurse cowering against the wall, and before Emma can stop her, she's lifting him. "My son."

"He can't speak if you're choking him," Emma says sharply. "Put him _down_."

"You're not my jailer, Swan, and I will not take orders from you."

"I'm not trying to be your jailer, your Majesty – I'm trying to be your co-parent, and our kid and the other half of you need us right now. In control. So drop him."

The Queen grunts and drops the nurse. "I want answers."

"Maybe I can help," David says as he steps into view, his agitation and anxiety clear in his blue eyes. He eyes the Queen warily, and then sighs, because what he'd heard Emma say to her is true. "Henry is in surgery; his arm was…it was badly broken."

"How badly?" the Queen demands. "And what aren't you saying, Shepherd?"

David pauses, looking uncertain about his words. He glances over at his daughter and licks his lips; that's when she notices the medical chart he has clutched in his hands. She wonders if Whale had given it to her father for precisely this reason.

"Show me," Emma says softly, extending her hand to him.

"Emma –"

"We can handle it. He's alive, right?"

"He is and…he'll be okay."

"Then why do you look like you're about to be sick?" the Queen growls. "And where's your ridiculous wife? Off being righteous and useless as usual, I assume."

"She and Zelena are searching for Jekyll."

"Together?" Emma and the Queen ask at the same time, and then both throw each other a look of amusement. Emma rolls her eyes. "That seems like a bad idea."

"I think they both agree that family necessitates a truce," David suggest. He looks pointedly at Emma and the Queen, reminding them of the truce they currently have.

That it's more like an understanding between the two of them – and that there's so much more going on between Emma and all parts of Regina – remains unstated.

"Fair enough," Emma agrees. "Dad, let me have Henry's file. We can handle it." She looks at the Queen. "We can because you'll keep cool, won't you, Your Majesty?"

"I won't allow you to put a collar and leash on me," the Queen answers, and then her lip quirks and one of her eyebrows lifts up suggestively. "Though –"

"Yeah, moving along. Dad?"

His brow wrinkled in confusion, David hands her the chart, his continued reluctance clear. Softly, speaking to both of them, he repeats, "He's going to be okay."

"Okay," Emma accepts, recognizing his intent. She meets the Queen's eyes for a moment, and then back drops her eyes back to the chart. Rapidly scanning it over, she scowls, and looks up at the Queen. "Remember, keep your cool, all right?" Before the Queen can reply with another comment about leashes or whatever, Emma starts to sum up the details on the chart, "Several cuts and deep lacerations along his face, arms and back." She swallows hard, a tinge of panic in her voice as she continues to list off the savage injury, "Broken nose, a fracture in his left orbital bone, a hairline fracture in left cheekbone –" she looks up the Queen, seeing the purple which is circling there. "And a compound fracture in his left arm which will require – if I'm understanding this correctly – pins to be put in to stabilize the integrity of it."

"Pins," the Queen repeats, the words coming out from between clenched teeth.

"He'll be okay," Emma reminds her before looking over at David. "I'm guessing we still have no idea how this happened?" As she speaks, one of her hands almost instinctively reaches out towards the Queen, as if to touch her and try to calm her, but then Emma is stopping and reminding herself that this Regina might not welcome such contact as much as the other Regina and the more complete one had.

It's all very confusing, to be sure, and so she's pulling back, and jamming her hands into her pockets, ignoring the fact that the Queen is suddenly looking at her like she'd seen the motion and knows what Emma had been about to do, and is upset.

The reason why? Emma can only guess at, and now is neither the time nor the place.

Because Henry is hurt, and Regina is missing, and she's working with the Queen and when you look at how everything is going, it seems like there's no hope to be found.

But there has to be because if there isn't…

Emma shakes her head and focuses on her father, waiting for his answer.

"Not really," David concedes. "Aside from the dust we found at the scene –"

"Wait, you found dust where you found Henry?" Emma asks. "Not just at the cabin?"

"Yeah," David nods. "So I think it's probably safe to assume Blue is involved."

"I'm going to rip her ridiculous gaudy costume jewelry wings off with my bare teeth," the Queen growls, earning a look of disgusted exasperation from Emma.

"Maybe, let's hold off on…costume jewelry? Aren't they like, attached to her?"

"Yes," the Queen agrees, a terrible smile on her painted lips as she considers the savage thrill of ripping away those delicate flaps of silken flesh from the fairies' backs. "And last night, dear Savior, I tore several sets of wings off, and listened as –"

"Right, you're insane, I forgot." She shakes her head. "He's in surgery now?"

"He is. Chances are he'll be too drugged up to help us."

"So then we go looking for answers on our own," Emma states.

"Henry –" the Queen counters, her violent bravado falling away, and for a moment, just the face of a mother shining through. She might not be exactly the mother most would think of when they think of Regina Mills, but she's still a part of that woman.

And right now, she is desperately afraid for her child.

"Is in good hands," David assures her. "I promise you, no one is getting past me."

"But if we don't go find Regina," Emma reminds her, voice gentle, her hand finally stealing out to settle on the Queen's wrist for a moment before lightly squeezing.

The Queen looks down at Emma's touch, her brow furrowing like she's trying to understand the idea of being touched so gently. Looking up, she finishes Emma's statement for her, "Then by the time we get to her, it might be too late for her."

"Yeah. Even if, hypothetically, she can't die unless you do, there are a lot of things –"

"I know," the Queen says, eyes closing for a moment, as if remembering exactly why and how she had been created in the first place. As if recalling the cries of a young girl who had desperately needed protection, and ended up having to create her own protector within her damaged soul. Finally, opening her eyes again, the Queen looks over at David, "If any harm comes to my son while I'm unable to protect him –"

"Over my dead body," David vows.

"Henry will be okay," Emma assures her, squeezing the Queen's wrist one more time before releasing it. "You might loathe my parents, but you trust them."

"You're so sure of that."

"The truth part, anyway. I think you don't know what you actually feel about them."

"Loathing is a good start."

"If you say so." She nods to her father. "Let me know the moment he wakes up."

"Of course. Emma –"

"We're coming home. All of us." She offers him a small smile, and then turns to walk down the hallway, intending for the Queen to move in-step with her. There's an uncertain pause – a reminder that this is the lonely and desperate part of Regina, which has never understand the nature of companionship nor partnership, but then the Queen is moving with her, and it's just the two of them in perfect visual sync.

Powerful, defiant and so very strong as a team.

David watches and wonders, and then heads back to the Waiting Room, his hands jammed in his pockets as he anxiously awaits any word on his grandson.

* * *

"We're going to play a new game," Hyde says as he leans over her. He makes sure that his shadow covers her, and she supposes that he's trying to intimidate her, but she's far too tired to care about much of anything besides closing her tired eyes.

Sleeps sounds really nice right about now.

Perhaps never waking up again does as well.

Except that Henry is out there, and who knows if he's still in danger from these two.

And Emma.

God, she knows what Emma would say if she knew that Regina had even had the thought about wishing she could just…die. It's silly and absurd and she can practically hear Emma's protests. They bring something of a smile to her lips.

Until she remembers that these two maniacs plan to hurt Emma as well.

They plan to hurt her whole family.

"What game is that?" she asks, her head lolling backwards. One entire side of her face is smeared red with crusting blood. The other side? Dark with angry bruises.

She's faced worse, she reminds herself. This is nothing compared to electrocution.

Or being tied to a stake awaiting execution.

Oh, but the Queen had been with her for both of those things – had kept her going.

Had refused to let her surrender even when she'd wanted to.

Now, it's all up to her to fight back.

The problem is, she's not sure she has the strength for that. Queen had come into being to help protect her from her childhood. She had been created because she'd been incapable of fighting back against Mother, so what hope does she have now?

She thinks about Daniel and clutching at his body, the life gone from him.

She thinks about walking down an aisle, her unwanted husband waiting for her.

She thinks about blood and smoke and so much destruction all around her.

She thinks about an alley and harsh rock beneath her knees, hands in her hair.

And then…and then she thinks about standing with Emma and fighting the Queen.

She thinks about standing up to her and standing up to Blue.

She thinks about standing in front of Henry against Hyde. She hadn't won that battle – her inability to use dark magic had felled her – but still…still, she had stood up.

Regina thinks that that has to mean something.

Even if that something is only stalling for a few precious minutes.

"Your magic intrigues me," he states. "Or rather, your lack of ability to use it."

Her eyebrow lifts. "Would you like a magic theory class? Now's not a good time, but if you let me free, I'd be happy to demonstrate of a few of the principles."

He chuckles. "Yes, perhaps, a practical…" And then he's snapping the binds off and roughly dumping her onto the ground, her broken ribs protesting the motion. Emma had somewhat healed them up before, but hours with Hyde have long reversed that.

"What are you doing?" Blue asks from the doorway, her heels clicking against the wood as she enters the room. "We agreed not to give her any chances to –"

"No, we agreed to destroy her," Hyde counters looking back at Blue with barely disguised derision, "And we will, Fairy, I assure you that. But on my terms."

"Anyone ever tell you not to make friends with sociopaths?" Regina asks, looking up at Blue with a smirk. Covered in blood and bruises, she looks half mad.

"I'd watch your mouth," Blue snarls.

"Enough," Hyde sighs. "You will get your tedious revenge in time. But there are things I wish to know about our dear Regina here, and I need her…fighting back." He then lifts his hand, and Regina sees what looks like an orange ball of energy in his palm. "Concentrated magic. Fairy dust, as you would more properly recognize it," he tells Regina. Then, looking at Blue, he shrugs, "I borrowed it from the dead."

"My dead," she says, eyes wide with horror.

"They have no more use for it." And then he throws the ball right at Regina's chest.

Instinctively, her hands jump up to shield herself and her light magic shimmers in front of her, somewhat white and speckled with gold and lavender. However colorful, it's also wounded, and it crackles when the fairy dust crashes against it.

"Good," Hyde nods. "Let's see where your lines are." And then he throws it again.

This blast, too, slams against her, tendrils of magic leaking past her thin defenses.

"Light magic won't save you," Hyde reminds her. "It can't stop magic corrupted by death. If you want to live – and I presume you understand that you can't really die until the Queen does so as well, so all you will do is allow yourself to feel your heart stop before you are yanked back to the living – then you will need to use darkness."

As if to prove his point, Hyde hurls another handful of the fairy dust at her; it strikes against her again, more cutting through her light magic shield and pounding harshly against her already badly wounded body. She blinks slowly, knowing that he's right.

Knowing that her choices here are terribly painfully simple: fight back or surrender.

The problem is, she's not sure which choice is which.

She feels the magic slice against her skin, feels the heat of it burning her flesh.

The darkness calls to her, no longer because of the Queen, but merely her defiance.

Because she had survived her Mother.

Even if that had meant creating the Queen.

Hyde laughs and Blue watches.

Regina can hear her own breathing, mixing with her pounding heart.

Hyde strikes her again and again and again.

She lifts up her hands, the skin of her palms spliced open by the fairy magic.

Painful lights pop behind her eyes.

She thinks about Henry and Snow and Emma.

The people she loves – the people who love her in spite of everything.

She thinks about her other half.

The one who has been willing to burn down whole worlds for her.

The magic of her shield turns from white to beige and then to gray, solidifying as it does; the fairy dust slams against it and falls away in a spray of colors.

"There we are," Hyde says, his rich tone gleeful. "Now, let's see who you truly are."

:D


End file.
